Ned Stark Lives! Part 2
by cbstevp
Summary: What would have happened in Westeros if Ned Stark had lived? The story continues, taking us to the Wall, Slaver's Bay, and of course the war between Stannis and the Lannisters. But winter has come, the Others are at the Wall, and the feared long night of legend will soon cover the world in darkness.
1. Chapter 1 Jon

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 1 Jon**

_This is a continuation of Ned Stark Lives! Please read it before jumping into this story. I hope you enjoy both and as always comments are welcome, the good, the bad, and the ugly._**  
**

"Commander, Maester Aemon is asking for you," Pyp told Jon Snow at the top of the Wall seven hundred feet above Castle Black. It was late afternoon, the dull glow of the sun low on the horizon to the west, its light barely coming through the clouds. It was also snowing lightly, making the world a little gloomier. Nearby were many more men of the Night's Watch with their weapons, eyes peeled to the forest below where the wildling hordes were hiding.

"Don't call me that, Pyp," Jon replied in a weary tone.

"What? Commander?" Pyp asked.

"But you are commander of Castle Black, at least for now," big Grenn reminded Jon once more.

"Did he say why?" Jon asked Pyp as he ignored Grenn's comment, deciding not to press the matter of his temporary title he never asked for nor wanted. 'The command is yours' Maester Aemon had told him after Donal Noye the blacksmith had died killing the king of the giants in the tunnel under the Wall. There were other, more senior and experienced men, but the Old Bear had taken most of them with him to the Fist of the First Men where they had died when the Others and their wights attacked them. Of those left behind at Castle Black, the steward Bowen Marsh was senior, but he was gone to the Shadow Tower. The few senior men left were so old they were more likely to fall off the Wall than defend it.

The wildling attack had started more than ten days past and Jon had taken the command after Noye had died, him a boy of barely more than sixteen name days. During those days and nights the surviving men of the Night's Watch had beaten back assault after assault of the wildlings. Some men had died, but not near as many as the wildings had lost. Their corpses had been dragged away and burnt by their brethren soon after they had died. Among the dead had been Styr, the Magnar of Thenns and most of his own men and the other wildlings who had attacked Castle Black from the south. The Night's Watch had burned their bodies. Including Ygritte's.

Jon had placed the torch himself under the pitch-covered logs her body had been laid upon. His black brothers knew who she was, had heard rumors, whispers of what had happened to Jon when he had gone ranging, whispers he had told only Maester Aemon and Noye. But there were few secrets on the Wall. He had broken his vows and laid with a woman, a woman he might have loved and married and lived to grow old with if they had both been of a different place, a different time. Or maybe not. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she had told him more than once and it was so very true. He knew nothing of love, and little of death, but that had changed, the first in her warm arms and the second in the frigid mountain pass where Jon had killed his first man and had almost killed her. As he lit her funeral pyre he thought he would cry but no tears came. Then one by one his few friends that remained at Castle Black came up to him and patted his shoulder or said a kind word, and when that happened it was worse and he had to fight to hold back the pinpricks of tears that formed behind his eyes.

Jon had done much worse things than lay with a wildling woman. He had killed one of his black brothers, the Halfhand, and then he had reluctantly told the wildling leader Mance Rayder the strength and dispositions of the men of the Night's Watch. He did it all to save his life more than anything. He had tried to lie but Mance saw through it and Jon finally just told them what they wanted to know. Some had begun to trust him, especially Ygritte and Tormund Giantsbane. Others still did not trust him entirely, including Mance and the Magnar. If not for Ygritte saying they were lovers, Mance might have had him killed after Jon failed to tell them about the Watch's positions on the Fist of the First Men. Jon had hoped that Lord Mormont would surprise the wildlings and drive them off, but they had discovered the Fist had been overrun by Others and their wights, and the survivors scattered.

After examining the Fist, they had sent Jon to help a raiding party over the Wall and through the land south of the Wall toward Castle Black. The climb had been terrifying, and many had fallen to their deaths, but more than one hundred raiders successfully crossed over the Wall. Jon had looked for his chance to be rid of them and finally escaped near an ancient tower. He took the horse of an old man they were killing, using the glare and noises from a sudden flash of lightning to leap for the old man's horse, slashing at those that tried to stop him with his Valyrian sword Longclaw. He somehow got away, the Thenns and other wildlings without horses to pursue him. They tried to bring him down with arrows, and one had found its mark in his leg. After he had pulled out the arrow he examined it but was still not sure if it was Ygritte's arrow or not. But he had escaped from them, and had warned Mole's Town and had warned Castle Black in time, and the attack from the south had failed. Turning his cloak once more had not only cost him an arrow in the leg. His story led to eyebrows raised in suspicion. He was sure some of his brothers no longer trusted him. And it had cost him Ygritte.

He never knew whose arrow had killed her, only knowing it was not his. Jon hoped he never found out who had fired that deadly shot because he knew he might just beat that man to death with his bare hands and that would not do at all. He was commander now, for the moment at least, and he had to lead these remnants of the once great Night's Watch at Castle Black.

How far they had fallen. Weak to begin with, hundreds had been lost at the Fist of the First Men and in the icy retreat that had followed. The Old Bear Commander Mormont was dead, killed by his own men at Crastor's Keep according to those few who had come back.

Samwell Tarly was not one of them. Sam was Jon's friend and now he might be dead. Grenn had left him in Crastor's, sitting over the Old Bear's body. Grenn had begged him to come with them, but Sam wouldn't move, paralyzed in fear or grief or maybe both. Now they knew not if he was dead or alive somewhere in the wild beyond the Wall. When Jon had heard this news he had taken a few moments to say a prayer to the old gods to protect Sam. Then the attacks started and he barely had time to think of anything else for days. Now thinking of Ygritte and Sam and all that had happened made Jon morose, so he cast aside those brief fleeting thoughts and listened to Pyp.

"No," Pyp replied to his question of whether the maester had said what he wanted. "Perhaps he just wanted to see if my blood would freeze before I could deliver the message."

Jon nodded and agreed it was cold, and getting colder, cold enough to freeze one's blood perhaps. Winter was indeed coming, as his father would say. He looked over the Wall's icy parapets and in the late afternoon gloom he could see the rising smoke of many fires of the wildling's camp in the forest. They were cold too, but Jon knew they had plenty of tents covered in animal hides and the forest had plenty of wood to keep them warm. He also knew they kept their fires burning night and day to keep the Others away. He could not see the camp through the trees but he knew they were there, making plans for their next attack no doubt.

Jon looked over to Grenn, the big lad who had stuck by him through thick and thin since he had come to the Wall. Well, since those first days at least, when Grenn had called him 'bastard' along with everyone else, and did it to hurt him. He and the others had also mocked him with the name 'Lord Snow' the master at arms Ser Alliser Thorne had stuck Jon with. But that had been an age ago, and those who still truly hated him were dead or missing. Those that remained now knew his value as a leader of men and as a man of the Night's Watch. Green and Pyp and Satin and some of the others called him Lord Snow out of respect now, not to mock his heritage or lack thereof. Now they also called him 'commander', but he was no Mormont, and Jon knew it in his bones that he never would equal the Old Bear. Yet, the duty was his, and he had to give orders. Strangely enough they had followed his orders, and they had saved themselves time and again these past many days.

Jon glanced at the men standing there, all bundled up in furs and leathers, all black, with their weapons at their sides or in their hands. His brothers. Not his blood brothers like Robb and Bran and Rickon. But his brothers of a different kind, brothers who had spilled blood with him, their own and the enemy's. They would be his brothers for life as well as those who born the Stark name.

He looked back at Grenn, one of the biggest of his brothers, called Aurochs for his size and strength. And his dim mind, Pyp would have added in jest. "Grenn, the Wall is yours," Jon told him.

Grenn's eyes grew big for a second and then he just nodded. "Aye, Commander."

"Do we have to call him 'commander' now as well?" little Pyp asked in a sort of mocking tone, nodding toward Grenn.

"Too bloody right you do!" Grenn shouted at him. "Now move your arse and go get some more barrels to fill with rocks! And don't forget to bring the rocks too!"

Pyp smirked at him. "Why don't you just shake your head a bit. I'm sure a lot of rocks will fall out and.."

But before he could finish Grenn growled at him and chased him as Pyp ran away and the rest of the men laughed at their antics. Jon just shook his head in despair and turned to the cage, entered it and began the descent to the castle below.

As he descended Jon leaned on the cage, resting his injured leg, which still bothered him even after almost two weeks. It never had time to heal properly, what with all he had to do. He thought on Thorne again, his enemy from his very first day at Castle Black, who had mocked him for being a bastard and for already knowing how to use a sword. Jon could not help being already trained in arms, unlike the rest. His mistake was to show how good he was while the others barely knew how to hold a sword. No, Mormont told him later, after Jon had become his steward, that had not been a mistake. Never be ashamed of your skill at arms, the Old Bear had told him. He did not say it but Jon had a feeling the Old Bear hadn't much liked Throne's methods, his bullying of the boys, the giving of names that mocked them. But with so few good men in the Watch, and still fewer of them knights, the Old Bear made do with what he had. And indeed Ser Alliser Thorne had taught the other boys, had taught them much that saved their lives when it had mattered most.

Now the Old Bear was dead and when Jon had heard the dreadful news it made him so very sad. Mormont had treated him well, in some ways like a son, and had even given him his family's most prized possession, Longclaw, a bastard sword, with a Valyarian steel blade. A sword Jon had used to kill the Halfhand. He had dreaded telling this news to Mormont when he finally made it back to Castle Black but sadly there had been no need. Thorne was also gone, to Eastwatch, more to keep him and Jon from clashing than for any other reason. Lord Steward Bowen Marsh was gone to the Shadow Tower, so Jon told his story to Maester Aemon and Donal Noye. Then the attacks came and there had been no time for Aemon or the few other senior members of the Watch to deal with his confessions.

In a way Jon had been thankful Thorne wasn't there. No doubt he would have thrown Jon into an ice cell for killing the Halfhand and joining the wildlings. But Thorne was now at Eastwatch and Jon even heard he had been sent south to King's Landing to beg for aid and to show them the hand of one of the wights that had attacked Commander Mormont. Jon flexed his burned hand as he thought on that, remembering the pain of the fire as he fought the wight and killed it. Of Thorne they had not heard of in a while and no one knew if he was alive or dead. News of the great battles around King's Landing had come to them, but they knew not if it was just rumors or truth. One letter they did believe came from King Stannis. It said Joffrey was dead and Stannis was now the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. That meant nothing to the men of the Night's Watch. They took no part in the realm's disputes.

But it also seemed the realm had no desire to take part in the Wall's troubles. The letters they had sent out asking for help had not been answered. Not even from Winterfell.

Several letters Master Aemon had received from Winterfell, letters the maester told him about when Jon had returned to Castle Black. One raven many weeks ago came from Maester Luwin, asking for information on wargs, skinchangers. But Maester Aemon, old and blind and slow to do anything, with his elderly, bald, chinless steward Clydas as his only support, had still been trying to do research on the subject when the wildling attacks came and so he had not answered the letter. Jon knew all about wargs, having suffered at the hands of one who had badly scratch his face in the guise of an eagle. Jon had killed the warg, Orell, the wildling man whose soul was now trapped in that eagle.

Jon also knew that he might be a warg as well, all the times he sensed he was running with his white direwolf Ghost, and even inside of Ghost. But Ghost had been unable to climb the Wall and Jon had lost him, and now he lost all sense of Ghost and that worried Jon. He missed Ghost and wanted him back badly. It felt as if part of him was missing with Ghost gone. Jon knew he was still alive, knew it deep down, and knew that Ghost had to be hunting and feasting and maybe even now was making his way to Castle Black. But he hadn't seen him or sensed him in weeks.

Then a second letter had come from Winterfell, from Lord Stark himself, and it was full of dire news. The Stark army had returned north but Winterfell had been attacked and sacked by ironmen led by Theon Greyjoy. Jon could not believe it at first, but it was from his father and so it must be true. All of his family was safe, but many others had died, including Maester Luwin. That news had caused Jon's heart to wrench in grief. The maester had always been kind to him, treating him like a true son of Eddard Stark, teaching him as he had taught the other Stark children. Maester Luwin had taught Greyjoy as well. Jon knew Greyjoy had been a hostage, knew he was a prisoner. But the Stark's had never treated him as such. Sometimes Jon felt Catelyn Stark treated Theon better than him. They had even had Mikken make a sword for Theon's sixteenth name day. Jon wondered if Lady Stark would have ever allowed such a gift on the day he became a man. That day had come and gone as he was training, but no name day gifts had been waiting for him.

Jon had never liked Theon, had never trusted his smiling face, his glib tongue, his easy way with the girls of Winterfell. And now it seemed he was right all along. Theon had returned the Stark's kindness by stabbing them in the back. Jon did not know all that had happened, did not know why Greyjoy had done this monstrous crime. It must have something to do with revenge, for what had happened to his brothers, Jon had thought when he had heard the news. No matter why, it had happened and Jon was full of fury at this news, especially when he heard Greyjoy had escaped, and he wanted to run off and find Greyjoy and put him to the sword himself. But this madness soon passed. His black brothers had saved him from himself when he wanted to run off and join Robb and rescue his father from the black cells of the Red Keep. They hadn't need do so again. Jon knew where his place was now. He was a man of the Night's Watch, and would man his post and do his duty.

Jon found Maester Aemon in his quarters, sitting at a table with Clydas by his side. The only light in the room came from a single candle on the table. Clydas seem excited about something. Perhaps there was good news for a change.

"Commander Snow is here," Clydas told the aged, blind maester.

"Stop calling me….never mind," Jon said in irritation.

"Take the title, Jon Snow," said Maester Aemon in his slow but steady voice, his clouded eyes looking past Jon at the wall behind him. "Keep your doubts from your mind. You have earned the right to be called commander of Castle Black, even if it is only temporary."

"Aye, as you say, maester," Jon answered, not wanting an argument. He saw a raven scroll on the table by the candlestick. "What news?"

"A letter, from Winterfell!" Clydas said in a rush. "They are coming!"

Jon felt an immense sense of relief and at the same time felt a great burden lift from his shoulders. "When? How many?" he asked eagerly, grabbing the letter from the table and reading quickly, bending closer to the candle to see better. "All of the North?" Jon said in surprise after a moment. "Does he mean…_all _of the North?"

"Yes," said Maester Aemon. "It seems so. Your father was never a man to make promises if he had no intention of carrying them out. He is raising all of the North. Your father and brother and the rest are coming."

"Then we are saved," said Clydas with palpable relief.

Jon grinned. "All of the North! Mance won't have a chance against us now!"

But Maester Aemon soon put some sense back into them. "This letter is only six days old. It will be at least a few weeks before any large force can get here. Perhaps from the Umber lands we can expect some support sooner, but we have many hard days ahead of us yet."

"Aye," said Jon, calming down a bit, knowing it was true. "But we must tell the men. It will give them hope."

"Agreed," replied Aemon. "But no celebrations. If Mance Rayder suspects help is coming, he will press his attack and become desperate to take Castle Black before help can arrive."

"Or he might run away," said Jon hopefully.

"That he could," Maester Aemon said, but there was caution in his tone. "Clydas, leave us please. And speak no word of this to anyone yet."

Clydas looked abashed for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, Maester. I will fetch your supper."

"Thank you," the maester said and soon Jon was alone with him. "Sit, Jon Snow."

Jon sat in the chair Clydas had just left and the maester spoke. "I knew Mance Rayder when he was a man of the Night's Watch."

That did not surprise Jon. Maester Aemon had been on the Wall for almost seventy years, according to what Sam had told him. "What was he like?" Jon asked.

Aemon shook his head slightly. "I knew him but a little as he spent most of his time at the Shadow Tower. But I never thought he would forsake his vows. But then again, it is hard to know what truly goes on in a man's head or heart. I've often wondered why he forsook his vows."

"He told me it was because of a cloak with some red cloth in it," Jon replied. Maester Aemon asked for the story and Jon quickly told how Mance had been wounded by a shadow cat while ranging and an old wildling woman had saved his life and sewed up his black cloak with the red cloth in it. When he returned to the Shadow Tower the cloak had been taken from him and he was given a plain black one. Soon after Mance deserted.

"Strange," said the maester after Jon had finished. "Most men desert for a woman, for the warmth of the south, for their families they miss, or because they cannot stand to be under any man's thumb. Mance was a man who just wanted more color in his life."

"I think it was more than that. But the cloak was what finally did it for him."

"I am sure there was more to it than just the cloak," Maester Aemon agreed. "He willingly told you this story?"

"Aye."

"Perhaps you know him better than anyone else in the Watch now, Jon. You have supped with Mance Rayder, and heard his songs, and stories, even told him much you shouldn't have."

Jon flushed. "I've explained…"

"Oh, not to worry, I do not fault you. You did as the Halfhand commanded. Knowing him, it seems likely you tell the truth."

"I do!" Jon said with a fierceness he did not intend in his tone.

"I believe you," the maester said gently. "And if you hadn't told Mance the truth when he questioned you, you would be dead now. But can we truly know what the man will do when he hears Lord Stark had raised the North to come to the defense of the Wall? Perhaps we can persuade Mance to leave if we tell him. But it is uncertain."

He paused for a moment and Jon thought he was done but then he took a deep breath and began to speak again in his slow steady way. "But where would he go? The Others are behind him. Those fires you say they keep lit are not only for warmth, as we know. And he has made many promises to his people. Promises they will say he failed to deliver if he retreats now. The wildlings call themselves the free folk for good reason. Mance is King Beyond the Wall only because they follow him. Once they stop following him, he will have no control over them at all."

Jon knew it was true. The free folk were not knee benders. They followed a man because he was worth following, and would not follow or obey if they disliked some aspect of the command. Any southern lord would just give a command and if it was not followed he would see those who disobeyed hanged. If Mance had ever tried to hang a wildling he'd be the first one hanging from a rope.

"What should we do?" Jon asked. "They cannot retreat. And we cannot let them take Castle Black."

"No, we can't," said the maester. "We must search for a third option."

"What third option?" Jon asked in frustration. "We are too few to attack them. We are too few to kill them all. Mance would never surrender to us. Even if he did, and his people didn't kill him first, how could we feed his many thousands?"

"We couldn't," said Maester Aemon. "Before he left for the Shadow Tower and we sent ravens to the lords of the North, our Lord Steward Bowen Marsh said they had best bring their own food with them if they come. We have enough for ourselves for a long winter, but we can't feed many more mouths."

"My father will bring supplies," Jon told them with a sudden sense of hope.

"And bring many mouths as well," Maester Aemon pointed out. "No, Jon, we cannot take the wildlings as prisoners. And we cannot defeat them."

"All of the North is coming," Jon stated. "We will be strong enough then to face them in open battle."

"The gate is blocked," the maester reminded him. "How will we get to the other side? And even if we unblock it, it is too narrow, wide enough for only one man or horse at a time. The wildlings could defeat us piecemeal as our force comes through the gate."

"The rest of the castles, the abandoned ones, they are blocked up as well?" Jon asked.

"Yes," the maester answered. "Still blocked…we can hope."

"Then the only way a large force can get to the other side of the Wall is from Eastwatch," Jon said but at the same time realized it was a futile plan. "That will take more time!" Then he felt another sudden glimmer of hope. "When my father comes he will know what to do," Jon said with conviction.

"Perhaps," the maester replied. "But the situation will not change. And don't forget the Others are out there as well, the enemies of us both."

There it was, the truth of the matter. The Others and their wights cared not who they were, wildling or brother of the Night's Watch. They were all enemies of the Others. The enemy of my enemy is…and then Jon knew what he must do.

"Maybe…maybe…," Jon started and then stopped and shook his head, suddenly realizing the folly of what he had in mind. "No…it's stupid."

"There are no stupid suggestions, Jon. I will not belittle you or shame you even if I think it what you suggest is folly. Jon, you are commander. You have proven yourself worthy of that title. Tell me what you think."

"Maybe…," he began and gulped. "Maybe the wildlings could become…become our allies."

The maester took so long in replying Jon thought he had misheard him. Or worse, thought it was sheer utter folly but was trying to find a kind way to say so.

"Allies," the maester finally mused aloud. "It is…an interesting thought."

Jon waited of him to say more but after a long pause he could bear it no longer, knowing how such an idea would be accepted by his black brothers. "They will call me turncloak for even suggesting it."

Aemon nodded slowly. "Quite possibly. We must not forget that Mance Rayder is a deserter from the Night's Watch. Our brethren would ask for his head, not his help. We cannot ignore his betrayal."

For a few moments Jon had forgotten about that. The maester was right. He did not say so but Jon knew Maester Aemon thought it was a stupid idea. "Then we all doomed if the Others attack in force."

To his surprise Maester Aemon chuckled. "Jon Snow, you forget why this Wall was built in the first place. Not to keep wildlings on the other side, but to keep the Others there."

"It is just ice and rock," Jon replied. He had climbed it and knew it was not a thing to be mocked, but also knew it was not the great obstacle the Night's Watch made it out to be.

"Oh no, it is much more than ice and rock," Maester Aemon answered him. "There is an ancient magic in this ice and rock. The Others shall not pass."

Jon wanted to laugh at him, scoff at him, but he held his tongue and was grateful the maester could not see the doubt on his face. He had heard the same stories, had learned the legends from Old Nan and Maester Luwin, how Bran the Builder wove sorcery into the Wall to keep out the Others eight thousand years ago. But that was eight thousand years ago, and there was no record of such deeds, only stories, now legends.

As he thought on this, another thought occurred. "What I saw at the Fist of the First Men…the remains of the battle. The Others were unstoppable, even against disciplined men of the Night's Watch. If we keep the wildings out and the Others as well, then the Others will slaughter them."

"It is very likely," Maester Aemon agreed. Then he sighed deeply. "We should help them…they are people, like us in many ways. But we cannot help them without betraying our vows and our duty to the realm."

Jon could only nod and agree. "Then we must wait…for my father's advice, at least."

"Yes…and so our battle must continue. And you must remain our commander."

"Until Bowen Marsh or someone more senior returns," Jon reminded him. "Have we received any word from the Shadow Tower or Eastwatch?"

"None yet."

Jon knew the maester would have told him there had been word and felt silly for asking. Just then came a knock at the door and Clydas returned with Master Aemon's dinner. The smell of the mutton stew and warm bread stirred Jon's own feelings of hunger and he went off to the hall to eat his full. So very few men were there, and they and Jon ate quickly so they could relieve their brothers on the Wall and allow them to come and take some warmth and food as well.

No more attacks came that night or the next day. The word that the North was coming quickly spread and the boost to the men's morale was incredible, with Jon having to calm them down and admonish them to not cheer. Of the wildings there was still no sign except their fires and the sound of trees being cut and falling and the sound of wood being chopped.

That night Jon crawled under his furs in Donal Noye's old chambers behind the armory, glad for a chance to rest for a few hours at least. He awoke at the dawn with the Old Bear's crow cawing at him for corn as it did every morning. It seemed Jon inherited the crow with the job as it followed him everywhere.

"Yes, corn, I know," he said sleepily as he crawled out of his bed and threw a handful of corn on the table from a sack he kept on a shelf. The crow leaped to the table and was soon picking up the kernels and gobbling them down.

An hour later Jon had eaten and was on the Wall, making sure the night shift men were well and the day shift men were all in place. An hour later a patrol came in from the east, three men Jon had sent out two days earlier to inspect the Wall for ten leagues distance to make sure the wildlings were making no attempts to climb it. They were stiff with cold and lack of sleep and reported they found no signs of anyone trying to climb the Wall. Jon sent them below to get some food and rest.

Not ten minutes later came the long sound of a horn blowing from somewhere down in Castle Black. Jon and Grenn and Pyp and the others on duty ran to the edge of the Wall and looked down and waited. And waited. But no more blasts came from the horn.

"One blast," Grenn said.

"Friends?" Pyp asked and then they saw, coming from the east, a line of men in black on horseback.

Jon smiled. "Reinforcements! From Eastwatch!"

The men all cheered and down below many men were coming out of towers and the few buildings left undamaged by the Magnar's attack. They were soon greeting their black brothers from the east. Jon wanted to rush down as well, but the cage with the patrol had just reached the bottom of the Wall and the switchback stairs that had been destroyed during the fight with the Thenns was still being repaired.

By the time he got to ground level, the new arrivals were all off their horses and crowded into the vaulted dining hall. Jon swiftly entered the room and then saw his enemy of old.

"I see at least Ned Stark's bastard has managed to survive," said Ser Alliser Thorne as he sat at a table while a steaming bowl of soup was placed in front of him. Some of the men with him laughed, but many others just continued eating as if they cared not. They all looked cold and hungry.

"Ser Alliser," Jon said curtly as a way of greeting. "How many men have you brought with you?"

"I don't answer to you, Lord Snow," Ser Alliser replied as he spooned up his hot soup.

"You haven't heard," said the cook Three-Fingered Hobb as he put a basket of hot bread loaves on the table. "Lord Snow is commander of Castle Black."

Thorne almost gagged on his soup. "I know the Old Bear is dead but where the hell are the senior rangers? Where is Marsh?"

"The rangers died on the Fist of the First Men and Bowen Marsh has gone to the Shadow Tower," said an aged voice behind Jon, and there was Maester Aemon leaning on the arm of Clydas. "There is much to discuss Ser Alliser. Jon Snow has been our commander for the last eleven days since Donal Noye died."

Thorne grunted. "Noye? Dead? How?"

"A giant killed him, in the tunnel, during the first attack," Jon told him. "Donal killed the giant as well." That brought many looks of surprise and some comments on his bravery.

"We have lost many," added Maester Aemon, and then proceeded to give a list of the dead and wounded. "Jon Snow has held us together and we have beaten off all of their attacks."

Thorne nodded, and then looked at Jon. "Well, bastard, looks like you were good for something after all. I am here now and I will take command of Castle Black."

That announcement, made loudly so almost all could hear, brought some looks of satisfaction from the men who had come with Thorne, but also looks and grumbles of disagreement from those who had fought with Jon during the battles. Jon wanted to protest this change of command but Thorne was senior to him by many years, and was a seasoned fighter. No doubt Cotter Pyke had sent him with these reinforcements for just this purpose when they heard from Maester Aemon's raven messages that Commander Mormont was dead.

"As you wish, ser," Jon said to Thorne. He did not want to give the command to this man, who many of the younger men despised, but truthfully he was relieved at the burden being lifted from his shoulders.

"Come, Maester, tell me it all," Thorne commanded and Clydas helped the aged maester take a seat at Ser Alliser's table. Jon went to sit as well, but Thorne stared at him. "Back to your post, Lord Snow. Spread the word that I am in command now."

"Aye…commander," Jon said and then he left without another word. He heard some chuckling as he left and felt his face burning as he left the hall, and the cold air outside did nothing to ease his anger. Thorne dismissed him like a child who has no place at the table when matters of importance were being discussed by the grown ups. Thorne was more senior, and surely would have been in command if he had been here. But his hatred for Jon ran deep, and now that Lord Mormont was dead and Thorne was in command Jon knew he would have to answer for what he did when he was out ranging north of the Wall. Maybe the maester wouldn't tell it all. But there were other men who had heard most of it and not everyone was Jon's friend.

He did not have to wait long. Several hours later his turn on watch ended and as he entered the vaulted dining hall with Pyp and Grenn and Satin and the rest of the men on his watch, Thorne was waiting for him with four strong men behind him.

"Lord Snow," Ser Alliser began with an evil glint in his eye. "Being a traitor's bastard wasn't enough for you, was it? No, you had to go and kill one of the best men who ever wore the black. Then you turned your cloak, took a spear wife, and led a party of wildlings over the Wall. You're under arrest, traitor!"

The four men moved to seize Jon but Grenn stood in front of him. "It wasn't like that!" Grenn said strongly and others raised their voices in agreement.

"Jon saved us from the Thenns!" Pyp shouted, moving in front of Jon as well.

"We all would have died if not for him," Satin added.

"He led them over the Wall!" Thorne shouted back in the growing quiet of the crowded dining hall. "Now step out of the way or you'll all be joining Lord Snow in an ice cell!"

Grenn looked like he wanted to smash Thorne in the face but Jon just put a hand on his shoulder. "Step aside Grenn."

"Jon…"

"Step aside," Jon repeated and Grenn finally did so.

Jon stared at Thorne. "Has Maester Aemon told you why I did what I did? That I was under the Halfhand's command to join the wildlings?"

"So you say," Thorne spat at him. "But we all know what the word of a bastard is worth." He turned to his men. "Take him to an ice cell."

"I know the way," Jon said.

"Your weapons, leave them," Thorne commanded. Jon unbelted Longclaw and his dagger and handed them to Grenn.

"Keep them safe," Jon told him and Grenn nodded with a grim look on his face. "As you command, Lord Snow."

"Don't worry," Pyp said when Jon started out the door with the four men behind. "Your father will set you free."

Thorne glared at Pyp. "Ned Stark has no authority over the Night's Watch. Best you lot forget about Lord Snow. If he is found guilty of aiding our enemies, he will hang."

Jon heard these words as he was led away. Ten minutes later he was inside an ice cell, a square room cut into the ice of the base of the Wall, normally used for preserving meat and fish, but at times used as prison cells. There was a bundle of old furs on the floor, frozen to the floor actually, and Jon had to struggle for a bit to pull them up. In the corner was a wooden pail, his only privy now. The ice cell was small, and he could not stretch out or stand to his full height inside. When the wooden door was closed and latched, there was barely enough light to see by. But as his eyes adjusted, the white ice walls of his cell seem to allow some outside light to filter through. Jon tried to make a bed for himself and then after he got as comfortable as he could he lay for a long time and wondered what would happen to him before weariness came over him and he slept.

He awoke when the door was opened and a steaming bowl of porridge was shoved through with a cup of ale. It was morning and for a few moments Jon shivered and felt weak as the cold that had seeped into his bones made him stiff like an old man. He gulped the ale and spooned up the porridge, his hands shaking from the cold. The warmth of the food seeped through his body and for that little bit of warmth he was grateful.

At noon Thorne arrived with some guards. "Ready to confess, bastard?"

"I told the truth," Jon replied, trying to remain calm.

Thorne just grunted and went to close the door. "Wait!" Jon shouted. "What of the wildings?"

"Your friends?" Thorne said with a smirk. "Still out there. We heard them building something. What are they doing?"

"I don't know."

Thorne snorted. "You know their plans, don't you, bastard? You're one of them now."

"Do you have rocks in your head?" Jon angrily replied. Throne started to retort but Jon continued, bullying right over Thorne's reply. "If I was with the wildings why would I warn the castle of the attack from the south?"

Thorne's answer to this sound logic was to give a skeptical snort and close the door.

Jon had no more visitors until he sensed it getting dark outside and then a short while later supper was brought to him. Supper was a bowl of thin barley soup and another cup of ale. At least the soup was hot. Breakfast was porridge and ale again. Three days passed in this manner, two meals a day, Jon shaking with the cold, feeling himself getting weaker, wondering if he was getting sick.

Each day at noon Thorne came to ask him to confess and Jon told him to go to hell each day and said he would only speak when on trial in front of his black brothers.

On the fourth day there was a break in the routine. Sometime after breakfast, a few hours maybe, the door suddenly opened. It was Grenn. "I traded duty with one of the regular guards," he said to Jon's surprised look. "Thorne doesn't know, of course. He's up on the Wall. Someone here to see you." A great bulk suddenly appeared in the doorway, blocking out all light.

It was Sam.

Jon gasped in surprise and tried to stand but couldn't. Samwell Tarly slid into the ice cell on his knees and then he was speaking fast, saying he had no time, that he had to finish before Thorne or one of his cronies saw them. He shoved a large chunk of smoked ham into Jon's hands and placed a hot cup of nettle tea to his lips. Jon sipped and it was so hot it burned but still felt wonderful. He chewed the ham and sipped the tea as Sam spoke.

"I came through the Wall, with Gilly. I'll tell you it all later. I'm with Ser Denys Mallister and many men from Shadow Tower. They found me and Gilly on the road. Her baby is with us and…" He babbled on about how the Old Bear was killed and he was helpless and how they fled and finally Jon just stopped him.

"Get me out of here," he managed to gasp.

"We're working on it," Sam told him. "Ser Denys is on your side. Maester Aemon and Grenn and Pyp and Satin and all the others told him and Bowen Marsh all you did. Marsh is hurt, there was a big fight at the Shadow Tower as well. Dolorous Edd is with us and many more but they lost almost one hundred men there. Ser Denys says he knows the Halfhand better than any man and believes he would tell you to kill him and join the wildlings. But Thorne isn't budging. He is still in command at Castle Black. Ser Denys tried to overrule him but Thorne says only the Commander of the Night's Watch can rule on this case and until here is a new one you are a prisoner. The men demanded a vote for a new commander but the senior leaders agree there is no time for a vote while the wildlings are still out there. So Thorne is still in command here, there is no new overall commander of the Watch, and you are still a prisoner. Maester Aemon demanded you be moved inside to a warm room while waiting trial but Thorne means to break you and make you confess."

Jon already suspected this much. He felt strength and warmth flow through him from the food and the news that someone was trying to set him free, but as Sam confirmed what he suspected Jon felt his hopes sinking. Yet he might still have one more chance to be set free.

"Where is my father?"

Sam shook his head. "Still no sign. Some Umber men came in last night Grenn said, about twenty. Said the Greatjon Umber is on the Kingsroad…but there is no word of your father."

Then Grenn opened the door. "Come on, Slayer! Move your fat arse! Someone's coming!"

Sam made a hasty goodbye, took the cup and retreated. For a long time Jon lay on his furs and wondered on what else could befall him. If they tried him, many would say he was a traitor who had betrayed the Night's Watch. He had no proof of what the Halfhand commanded him to do. He only had his word. He was a bastard, much worse, a traitor's bastard, so his word did not count for much.

Four more days passed like this, and Jon thought he would have died without Sam and the others helping sneak him hot food and more furs. But still there was no trial, and he languished in the ice cell. Thorne continued his daily visits and seem to grow happier the more miserable Jon got. Maester Aemon came to see him one day to check on his health and tell him there had been a few wildling feints at the gate, but they hadn't amounted to anything.

"Mance Rayder wants to parley," Maester Aemon whispered to him as he handed Jon a jug of mulled wine. "But Mance is a traitor and there is much disagreement among the commanders. Some mean to see him hang if they capture him."

"As you said…when I was still commander," Jon replied as he sipped the hot wine, feeling its wonderful warmth flow through him.

"Jon…there's also been talk of sending you to Mance."

That surprised him. "To parley?"

"Yes," the maester replied. "At least that's what they will tell Mance."

"Mance will kill me on sight."

"Thorne knows this…I believe he wants you to assassinate Mance."

Jon grunted. "And die myself, succeed or not."

"To prove your loyalty, he argued with the other senior men. But Ser Denys and Bowen Marsh told Ser Alliser he could explain it all to your father when he arrived, about how he sent Lord Eddard Stark's son to his death."

"Bastard son."

"Still his son. Thorne shut up about sending you as an envoy after that."

Jon had to grin at that tale and the maester left Jon alone after reassuring him that all would turn out for the best.

Then on the eleventh day of his imprisonment for the first time Thorne did not come to see him at noon. Soon there came a great sound of horns and shouting and Jon thought for certain another attack had come from the south. He shouted to his guards but no one answered. Not ten minutes later he heard angry shouting outside the door.

"Step aside or I will gut you myself!" said a voice Jon longed to hear for so many days.

"You have no place here!" Ser Alliser Thorne replied angrily. "He betrayed us!"

"Do as my father says or you and the Wall will never see another man or scrap of food from the North ever again!" shouted another familiar voice.

There was silence for a moment and then the door was flung open. Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell stuck his head into the ice cell. He stuck out his hand and Jon reached out, struggling to hold back his tears.

"Come, lad," Ned Stark said and then with his firm grasp he took Jon from the ice cell and into the air outside. Jon blinked and his eyes took a while to adjust to the light but when they did he saw a vast host of men moving into the castle, with what seemed like all the banners of the North with them.

Ser Alliser Thorne stood to the side, anger in his eyes. Robb was standing there glaring at him, his hand on his sword's pommel. Nearby were Sam and Grenn and Pyp and many others and dozens of northmen.

"You've got your bastard, for now, …Lord Stark," Thorne said, his face and voice full of anger. "But he still belongs to the Night's Watch. He said the words. He betrayed us. We will have a trial and he will pay for his betrayal."

"We shall see," was all Ned Stark said, his eyes glaring at Thorne, and then Thorne stalked off without another word.

"Father," Jon said weakly and then he collapsed. In seconds Robb and Ned picked him up.

"Where's the maester's chambers?" Robb shouted.

"I'll take you," Sam told them and soon they were on their way.

"Sorry," Jon managed to gasp as they helped him across the yard where he had first picked up a blunted sword and earned Ser Alliser's scorn. "Too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Robb said with a grin. "We've already marched and fought halfway across the kingdoms, what's a few more hundred miles?"

"We'll deal with this betrayal business, not to worry," Ned Stark told Jon. "Come, time you were in a proper bed and got some hot food and rest. Then there is much to talk on."


	2. Chapter 2 Eddard

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 2 - Eddard**

Lord Eddard Stark sat by Jon Snow's bed in his chambers behind the armory of Castle Black, sitting by the fire, trying to keep warm, as he looked at Jon's sleeping form on the bed, tucked snuggly under a thick pile of furs. Maester Aemon said Jon was not ill, just tired and cramped up from spending eleven days in an ice cell. As Ned thought on that he ground his teeth and wished once again to inflict some form of punishment on Ser Alliser Thorne, the man who had put Jon in the ice cell. But Ned knew he could not do so. Thorne belonged to the Night's Watch, as did Jon, and they were apart from the realm and the lords who ruled it. It had been that way for thousands of years if the legends were to be believed. Hundreds of years at least, from the time after the Age of Heroes when written records began to be kept. There was nothing Ned could do unless he dared break precedent, and that he would not do. The Night's Watch was a body of men with its own rules and customs. Jon said the words, took the oath, and became one of them. Now he would have to be judged by them.

Ned had first heard of Jon's troubles while on the Kingsroad, just over two thirds of the way to Castle Black from Winterfell. The journey had been mainly uneventful, with the contingent of men and supplies growing larger as they moved north, as more lords and their contribution of men and food and arms to the venture joined the Winterfell men on the Kingsroad. Even Lord Bolton had sent a contingent of two hundred men, led by his captain Steelshanks Walton. Roose Bolton stayed behind in the Dreadfort, claiming to be mourning his son. Ned did not believe that for a minute, knowing Roose well enough to know he cared not too deeply for his dead bastard, who he suspected had killed his own true son. But Ned did not question Walton too closely on this when his men had joined them on the Kingsroad three days from Winterfell. Ned did not want to cause any more rancor between Winterfell and the Dreadfort. He knew Walton was a stout hearted man who would follow his orders, and he needed him and his men for the dangers ahead.

And so things went, with the days growing colder and shorter, with some light snows and then some more substantial ones, but thankfully no blizzards had come…yet. Then when they were about two thirds of the way to the Wall a rider came in the night after they had made camp in a snowy field just off the road. Ned and Robb had just sat for their evening meal around an open fire with Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion when the wildling woman Osha came out of the growing darkness pushing a very fat man in front of her long spear. He was all dressed in black. She yelled at him to halt by Ned's fire.

"Lord Stark, caught this one on horseback heading south on the road," Osha reported. "Claims he comes from the Night's Watch."

"I…I…do," stuttered the man, casting his eyes down to the ground.

"What's your name?" Robb demanded as he stood.

"S…Sa…Sam…Sam Tarly," the fat man said with more stuttering. Then he looked up and looked directly at Ned. "Are you Lord Stark?'

"Aye," Ned replied.

Now the fat man spoke in a rush. "Jon Snow is being held prisoner in an ice cell by Ser Alliser Thorne."

Ned told Osha to return to her post and then bid Sam to sit by the fire and tell them all he knew. They fed him meat and mead and Sam told them it all, about what had happened when they had gone ranging, about the Fist of the First Men, the attack by the Others and the wights, the attacks of the wildlings on Castle Black, about coming through the Wall with someone he called Gilly and her baby. And then about what Jon had done, the stories they told about him, how he had killed the Halfhand, and had taken a raiding party of wildlings and those they called the Thenns over the Wall. But he escaped from them and warned the people of Mole's Town and Castle Black and they defeated the attack from the south.

Ned knew some of this from Master Aemon's letter, but getting more details made him understand it better. Jon was being held prisoner because he had broken his vows and had helped their enemies.

"The Others," Thoros of Myr said with awe after Sam finished his tale. "They truly exist?"

"Yes," Sam replied. "I…I killed one." The way he said it he seemed ashamed of his act.

"How?" Dondarrion demanded at once.

"With an obsidian dagger…dragonglass most call it. Jon found a bundle of them buried near the Fist. He gave me one."

"What happened when you killed it?" Robb asked, his intense curiosity obvious in his tone.

"It just…kind of screeched when I stabbed it …and then it melted," Sam told them. "Like…it turned to what looked like water, and then mist and then…it was gone."

"May the Lord of Light protect us," Thoros said reverently.

"And the old gods and the new," Robb added and a silence fell over the men, the only sound the crackling of their fire, each man thinking on what Sam had told them.

"Then it is all true," said Dondarrion at last in the gloomy silence. "The Others have arisen and have command of an army of wights."

Robb then asked to see the dagger Sam had used and Sam took it out and showed them. They passed it from hand to hand, each looking at it in turn and then Robb gave it back to Sam. "We must have more of this dragonglass," Robb declared after he returned the dagger to Sam.

"Aye," Ned answered, but he had no supply of such for his army. They all had good steel, but would steel kill the Others? Not according to what Osha had told them back in Winterfell.

"But where will we get it?" Thoros asked and no one answered.

"Fire," Sam said suddenly. "They are afraid of fire."

"That is good to know," Ned told him. They already knew this from Osha, but Ned did not say so. He looked across the fire at Sam.

"Why did you come to tell us all this?" Ned asked him. "You deserted your post to bring us this news."

"I'm not a deserter!" Sam countered quickly. "Maester Aemon…he told me to come…to find you. Two days ago I left."

"No…you're not a deserter if the Maester told you to come," Ned agreed and Sam seemed relieved.

"Jon is my friend," Sam said quickly. "I'd do anything for him. But Thorne…he hates Jon."

"Why?" Robb demanded.

Sam gulped. "Because…because Jon was better than the rest of us. He knew how to fight, could beat everyone. Thorne hated him because he was so good. He mocked us all, gave us names, meant to hurt or anger us. But he mocked Jon more than the rest of us. Called him 'Lord Snow' and…and …" but Sam hesitated to say what else Thorne had called Jon.

"Tell me," Ned demanded.

Sam gulped again and spoke so quietly they almost didn't hear him. "Ned Stark's bastard."

Robb cursed when he heard this and then turned to his father. "Do you know this knight who hates Jon so much?"

"Aye," Ned told them, his face set in his grim way. He remembered Thorne now, remembered why he had no love for the Starks. "Thorne is an enemy of old. He sided with Mad Aerys during Robert's Rebellion, defending King's Landing when Tywin Lannister's army arrived. When the city fell Lord Tywin gave Ser Alliser and the others a choice, their heads on spikes or the Wall. Many chose the Wall, including Thorne. But it seems his hatred of those who rebelled did not die."

"So, Thorne hates him. Jon broke his vows and Thorne wants him punished," Thoros summed up. "Did he break his vows?"

Sam shrugged. "He says the Halfhand ordered him to join the wildlings, to do as they asked, to learn their ways and plans. But…"

"He is dead," Robb said.

"At Jon's hand," Ned added and he sighed deeply. "This is…complicated."

"We must ride!" Robb said suddenly. "At once. Jon could be sick or worse by the time we get there."

Ned Stark shook his head. "No, my son. Our men are tired and need their rest as do our horses. At first light we will lead a picked squad of fast riders to Castle Black. All of us will go, Walton as well. Sam, you will come with us, too."

"Yes, my lord," Sam replied.

Ned looked at the others. "Best get some rest, my lords. Tomorrow will be a long day again."

Thoros and Dondarrion bade them goodnight and Robb did as well. Sam started to rise from the fire but Ned asked him to remain seated. Soon they were alone.

Ned looked at him closely. A big man, boy more like, big all over, and he was wearing the black. He seemed more craven than a brave warrior the Wall needed to defend the realm. Was this what the Night's Watch was coming to?

"Where are you from Sam Tarly?" Ned asked him.

"Horn Hill, in the Reach, my lord," Sam replied and then Ned knew who he was.

"Your father is Lord Randyll Tarly?" Ned asked and Sam nodded.

"He's a great warrior," Ned commented and Sam seemed to blush even in the firelight.

"Yes," Sam replied. Then he sighed heavily. "And I am his oldest son."

Ned knew something was amiss here, wondered why Sam was at the Wall. Oldest sons inherited their father's lands and titles, wed other lord's daughters and carried on their name. They did not take the black. As he looked at Sam, Ned suddenly felt that he understood. Sam was not the son Randyll Tarly wanted. Fat, cowardly…not a man worthy enough to inherit the Tarly lands and name.

"You have a brother?" Ned asked Sam and he nodded.

"Younger…more like my father,…now his heir," Sam said and his face flushed and he quickly gulped some mead from his cup.

Ned then changed the subject which so clearly Sam did not wish to speak on. "It was good of you to come tell us about Jon's troubles. I thank you for that."

"I did it for Jon."

"He is truly your friend?"

Sam nodded. "He…I'm…I'm no good. I'm not a fighter, my lord. I…I admit I am a craven."

Ned snorted. "So craven you killed an Other? How many men in the Seven Kingdoms can say that?" None, Ned knew…at least for now.

"It was the dagger that killed it, my lord."

"You thrust the dagger, Sam Tarly. No, you are no craven…just a man who had a difficult father I take it."

"Yes, my lord," Sam answered and then he grew silent.

"Tell me more about what Jon did. Why is he your friend?"

"Jon…he protected me from the other boys…men," Sam began. "The other men hated him at first, those we trained with. He beat them all at practice with arms in the yard at Castle Black, and they hated him for it. But now they would follow him to hell if it came to it."

Ned felt a sudden surge of pride for Jon's accomplishments. But that feeling was tempered by the knowledge that Jon was in deep trouble. "That is good to hear," he told Sam as he stood up. "Come. I will find you a tent and then you must rest. Tomorrow we ride hard for Castle Black."

The next day Ned took fifty men, all from different houses and lands, including Thoros and Dondarrion and Walton, and they rode hard up the Kingsroad, carrying what supplies they needed in their saddlebags. The next day in the morning they ran into the rear of Lord Umber's men heading up the Kingsroad. Soon after that Ned caught up with the Greatjon and together they arrived at Castle Black in the early afternoon. Ned had confronted Thorne at once and took Jon from the ice cell.

It was night now and Jon still slept. Robb was off with the Greatjon and the senior leaders of the northern army checking their men for the night. Soon Ned would have to meet with the leaders of the Night's Watch to discuss their strategy for dealing with the wildlings. But for now he wanted to stay with Jon, to be there when he awoke so he could find out first hand all that had happened.

Thinking about the wildlings made Ned remember his father's advice so many years ago. The advice was offered to his older brother Brandon, the heir of Winterfell, but Ned and his younger brother Benjen were there as well. It was a long tradition of the North to help the Wall in time of trouble, their father told them. The men of the North and the Night's Watch cooperated as much as possible, he added, but the Night's Watch was responsible for the Wall and its defense. Your duty is to protect the people of the North from whatever lies beyond the Wall, if it got past the Wall, their father concluded. Brandon had made a quip about killing all the wildling men but sparing the women since they would make good wives for the men of the North. It was a poor jest and their father let Brandon know it was with the scorn in his voice as he told them how the wildling women were just as tough as the men, and maybe even more dangerous. Brandon was just sixteen then, same as Robb and Jon were now, and he laughed at everything, rode his horse like a madman, and chased anything that wore a skirt.

Benjen was different, and he had intently listened to their father talk about the Wall and the Night's Watch. He was but twelve years old then but Ned felt that was the day when Benjen made up his mind to join the Night's Watch. He was a third son, with few prospects. Brandon would get Winterfell, Ned maybe a holdfast after an arranged marriage to some lord's daughter. Benjen would get nothing, no titles or lands, and all he could expect from life was a position in one of his brothers' guard, perhaps the captain of the guard at Winterfell. Or perhaps their father would have given him some hides of land to farm or help him build a holdfast, but that was not a common path in life for the son of a great lord, even a third son. Or he could have become a knight, squiring for some great knight and earning his knighthood, and then riding in tournaments for glory or perhaps going to King's Landing to offer his services to the royal court. But no, in the end he chose the Night's Watch, as did many younger Stark sons in the past. And now he was missing.

After Jon was freed from his ice cell and was put in bed after a quick examination by Maester Aemon, Ned asked after his brother and no one could tell him anything except he had gone ranging over six months ago and was not seen since. The bodies of some of his men had been found, dead and with bright blue eyes, wights now, which arose and attacked Commander Mormont in the dead of night. But Benjen's body was never found…if he was dead. Ned did not want to think it was true, but knew after so long it was most likely true.

Perhaps Mance Rayder knew, Ned thought as the fire crackled after he put another log on it. Maybe the wildlings took Benjen and killed him or still had him prisoner. Mance would know for certain if some of his people had captured the First Ranger of the Night's Watch.

As Ned thought on this the door opened and Sam came in, carrying a tray with food on it.

"Is he awake?" Sam whispered.

"No, lad," replied Ned.

"Aye, he is," said a voice from the bed and Jon sat up, slowly, groaning a bit. Even in the dim candlelight Ned could see he was still very tired. "I'm starving," Jon told them.

Sam quickly placed the tray on a small table near the bed. On it was bread and a steaming bowl of soup, with a cup of ale and some cheese on the side. Jon picked up the spoon but his hands shook badly as he tried to spoon up the soup and he spilled it. Ned started to rise from his chair but Sam was faster and he sat on the side of the bed, gently took the spoon from Jon's hand, and started to feed him. Jon looked ashamed at this, having his friend feed him like a helpless babe.

"Sam…" Jon started to protest as Sam pushed another spoonful to his mouth.

"Eat," Sam said to him. "You'd do the same for me if I was ill."

Jon went to speak again but Sam shoved the spoon in his mouth and Jon had no choice but to gulp the hot soup. Ned had to grin at that.

"I'm not ill," Jon said after the spoon came out but then another spoonful of soup was quickly in his mouth and this time he took it without protest. Sam gave him some bread and then a sip of ale and soon Jon was eating more, drinking the ale in gulps, and looking and feeling better.

Jon looked over at Ned and Ned could see the look of shame and regret he had seen so many times from his children as they grew up and did something to displease Ned or Cat. The same look Jon had when he and Robb were dragged before him after they had dropped a pile of snow from the battlements on an unsuspecting visitor from the Night's Watch. Again he had the look when Cat had scolded him fiercely when he had accidentally struck Robb too hard a blow on the head while practicing in the yard under the eye of Ser Rodrik. Once more when Sansa and Jeyne Poole and many other girls had screamed loud and long when Jon had mistakenly walked into the bathhouse when it was the girls turn to bathe. Ned had laughed that time but Cat had been angry, as she always was when it came to Jon. Angry for all the wrong reasons, reasons Ned could never tell her.

Too many secrets, Ned told himself once more. And now it was time to face them.

All the long journey up the Kingsroad a debate had raged in Ned Stark's heart and head. His heart told him that he must tell Jon the truth about who he was. But his head kept saying that it would do no good, that there was no reason for the boy to know, that it was better to let things lie as they were.

In truth Ned feared how Jon would react to the news that he was not Ned's son. All his life Jon had been told one thing – that he was the bastard son of Eddard Stark and an unnamed woman he had met during Robert's Rebellion. To suddenly have that belief destroyed by the man he believed was his father, that could unhinge Jon. Would he hate Ned? Would he curse him for not telling him the truth? Jon had suffered many indignities because the whole realm believed him to be 'Ned Stark's bastard', as Sam said Thorne called him. Well, he was a bastard…just not Ned's. And the shocking truth of who his real father and mother were could also cause Jon untold pain. Ned was sure Jon would never trust him again. Maybe never even talk to him again. If he knew.

No, Ned said to himself once more, I will not tell him…not yet.

Now he looked at Jon, and Jon looked back and there was that look of shame again, the look that said 'I did something wrong and I know it and you know it as well'. Jon cast his eyes away from Ned's gaze.

"Sam…leave us," Ned commanded suddenly and Sam did not protest, just put down the spoon, made his goodbyes and was soon gone.

"Father…" Jon said and then he could speak no more.

Ned moved his chair closer to the bed so he was sitting right beside Jon. Ned grinned and then placed his hand on Jon's arm. "I am so proud of you."

Ned could see the emotion's playing across Jon's face as he struggled to understand. "Proud?" Jon began in a surprised tone as Ned took away his hand. "But...I broke my vows…I killed one of my brothers…I helped the wildlings. I…I…took a woman."

Ned raised his eyebrows. This was news to him. Sam had made no mention of a woman in his tale of Jon's adventure. "Is she beautiful?"

"Aye," Jon said quickly and Ned could sense the longing in his voice. But then his face grew dark. "Her name was Ygritte. She had beautiful red hair. She was kissed by fire the wildlings say. Now she is dead."

Ned could not help but look surprised. "You didn't know?" Jon asked.

"No, I did not. Sam left it out of his tale of your adventures. No doubt he thought it was not his place to tell me such things. I'm sorry she is dead, lad. What happened?"

Jon sniffed once and then spoke quickly. "She died during the attack on Castle Black. She was a wildling, my…our…enemy. But she was still a person, a wonderful woman. She saved my life when Mance Rayder suspected my loyalties still lay with the Watch. She…she was a good person, not a raving wildling savage like my black brothers believe they all are."

"You cared for her."

He nodded slightly, and Ned sensed Jon dare not trust his voice to speak such a feeling. "Jon…I have no words of wisdom to help you understand what you have been through. You did what you needed to do to live, to survive, to fight another day. My…our… ancestor bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror three hundred years ago and because he did that one shameful act, the Stark name still lives, his blood still flows in us, and we still rule the North. Other kings and lords were not so willing to bend the knee, and they died, and their names are now forgotten by most. You are here now, you are alive, and that is all that matters."

"But Thorne, my trial…"

"Thorne is but one man," Ned told him. "Other men know you saved them from the attack from the south, led them when Donal Noye fell in battle, did all you could to hold them together and keep them safe. Ser Denys is on your side, and so is Maester Aemon and even Bowen Marsh, if what Sam says is true. By tradition, the senior leaders of the Watch sit in judgment, Benjen once told me. So that means Bowen Marsh, Ser Denys, and Ser Alliser, plus some of the older knights, and Master Aemon, will make the final decision. You have much support among the men Sam says. So…you rest, get better, and not worry so much on these things."

But Jon shook his head. "I broke…"

"Your vows, aye. With a woman, aye. And how many of your brothers crawl off to Mole's Town when they think no one is looking and break their vows?"

Jon grinned slightly. "More go than don't."

Ned grunted. "Men will be men, Jon. Saying words and joining a brotherhood does not mean you don't have the needs of a man."

But Jon still looked troubled. "I killed the Halfhand. I rode with the wildlings."

"At his command. Jon, we only have your word on what happened out there, but I will trust your word more than most men's."

Jon grinned a bit. "Thank you, Father."

Ned ginned back. "Now, enough of that. We will deal with it when your strength returns." Ned stood and was going to leave but Jon suddenly stopped him with a question.

"What happened to you? In King's Landing and on the road home."

Ned sighed. The Wall was always the last to hear any news in the Seven Kingdoms. "That is a long tale and best be told with a cup of ale in hand and time to spare."

Jon nodded in understanding. "And my brothers and sisters?"

"They are well," Ned told him. "Bran…well, you know how he is and nothing has changed. We…we lost many good people. Maester Luwin…he is dead."

"I saw your letters to Castle Black," Jon said and then he scowled in anger. "Theon Greyjoy's work."

"Aye," Ned said, his face back to the grim cast he usually wore. "And that is another long tale. I should see to our men before I must meet with our commanders. Do you need anything?"

"My sword and dagger?" Jon asked and Ned knew he probably felt naked without them. He often felt the same when he was without weapons easily at hand.

"They are here," Ned told him and he pointed to the corner where Jon's weapons hung on the wall by their belts from a peg. "Sam told me that the sword is called Longclaw and is a Valyrian steel blade that belonged to the Mormont family."

"Aye, it is. The Old Bear gave it to me."

"That was kind of him. I suppose with his son a traitor in exile across the Narrow Sea he felt someone else should have it. It is good to have such a sword." Then he remembered something he wanted to ask Jon. "Tell me about Needle."

Jon was taken aback and his face blanched for a moment. "Did you take it from her? I'm sorry, I…"

"No, I did not take it from her and there is no need to be sorry. I found a man to teach her how to use it."

Jon smiled. "She will make a fine swordsman…woman."

"She has already proven that several times."

Jon screwed up his face in puzzlement and also worry. "What do you mean?"

"Needle saved her life on at least three occasions."

"What?" Jon said in obvious surprise.

"And that is also a tale for another time. Rest, lad. I must…" And then the door opened and it was Robb.

"They want to see you, Father," Robb said quickly. "They grow impatient."

"Aye," Ned replied heavily. By 'they' Robb meant the commanders. He was not looking forward to sitting with Ser Alliser Thorne to discuss Jon or the strategy for dealing with the wildlings. "Stay with Jon. He has many questions and needs to know what has happened in the realm while he was off ranging."

"I should come to the meeting as well," Robb replied.

Ned shook his head. "I don't want Jon to be alone."

Robb seemed about to protest but then relented. "As you wish." He looked at Jon and he grinned. "Telling tales is thirsty work, Snow." He picked up the cup by Jon's bed. "Empty. Let me fetch a flagon and I'll be right back."

"It is too late to be drinking, son," Ned advised him. "Tomorrow you may need a clear head."

"Aye," Robb nodded, perhaps a bit reluctantly, and he then sat in the chair Ned had just left.

"Congratulations, Robb," Jon said at once to Robb.

"What…oh…my marriage," Robb said with a grin. "We had a grand wedding at the Twins. She's lovely, my Roslin. And with child."

"What? Already?" Jon gasped in surprise.

"My mother as well," Robb told him and Jon just shook his head in disbelief and looked at Ned.

"Aye, 'tis true." Ned said with a grin.

"You Starks have been busy," Jon said in a joking way and all three had a small laugh together. "I suppose you will tell me Sansa or Arya are getting married next."

"Sansa, no," said Robb. Then he raised his eyebrows a bit. "Arya…who knows?"

"Arya?" Jon said in surprise. "She's only what…ten? Eleven?"

"She is betrothed to Walder Frey's youngest son," Ned told him and Jon's wide-eyed look of surprise stayed on his face.

"But she doesn't want to marry him," Robb added. "In fact, she…"

"Robb," Ned said sharply. "Maybe best not to speak on that."

"You know Jon will keep her secrets," Robb told his father.

"Of course I will," Jon said quickly, seemingly eager for gossip about the family. "Tell me it all."

"As you wish," Ned said reluctantly. "I must go." Ned did not want to get dragged into explaining any more about Arya and their other adventures. He looked at Robb. "Don't keep him up long. He needs his rest and so do you."

"Aye, Father," Robb replied and then speaking of Arya reminded Ned of something else. He reached into the pocket on his heavy coat and fished out Arya's letter to Jon. "From Arya," he said as he handed it to Jon and then he left them. The last thing he heard as he opened the outer armory door was Jon's shocked question. "What? In love? With who?"

Ned sighed and left the armory. Ned thought on what Robb was telling Jon now and then he was reminded of Gendry's request to join his party heading to the Wall, saying they might need an armorer. Now that he knew Donal Noye was dead, Ned regretted not taking Gendry up on his offer. But maybe it was for the best Gendry had stayed behind as Arya would have wanted to come as well and that would have not been possible. They would have to do without an armorer or get one from Eastwatch or maybe from Lord Umber's lands.

Outside the armory doors were two Winterfell guards Ned assigned to watch over Jon. Ned asked how they were and they said fine, but Ned could see they were cold and tired and promised to send a relief for them soon. Ned found some of his men sitting around a big fire and told two of them to go relieve the armory guards and in moments two men rose and were on their way. Ned then walked through the castle yard towards the dining hall where he knew the commanders were waiting for him. It was long after the supper hour and most of the men were in their tents or rooms, trying to keep warm. Other men of the Watch were on the Wall or guarding the now blocked gate, standing where they had promised to stand, to defend the realm until they died.

But not all had kept that vow. Jon was not the only oathbreaker. Some men of the Night's Watch had killed their own commander at Crastor's Keep. That shameful act was far worse than what Jon had done. But those men were most likely dead at the hands of the wildlings, or worse, the wights and Others by now.

Ned entered the vaulted dining hall in a hurry, the cold of the night air following him inside so he quickly closed the door. He took in the scene at once. The dining hall was empty except for a long table where the commanders sat. The Greatjon was there, as was Steelshanks Walton, with Thoros and Dondarrion and some other minor Northern lords that had come with them from the main body of men still coming up the Kingsroad. Thorne sat at the head of the table, with Maester Aemon and his assistant to his right, Ser Denys Mallister and Bowen Marsh to his left, along with some few other Night's Watch men Ned did not know.

"Welcome, Lord Stark," Ser Denys said as he stood. He turned to the kitchen as Ned sat next to the Greatjon at the other end of the table as far from Thorne as he could sit. "Bring some mulled wine for Lord Stark," Ser Denys shouted to the kitchen area. The other men at the table all had mugs of steaming wine in front of them. Soon Ned had a mug as well and its warmth filled him up as he sipped it.

"Right, we're all here, let's get on with it," the Greatjon said in his loud voice.

Thorne stared down the table at the Northmen. "First, we will deal with the matter of Lord Stark's…son."

"No," said Maester Aemon right away. Thorne turned to give him a cold stare but Aemon was blind and could not see the fury on Thorne's face and kept on talking. "The matter of Jon Snow's actions can wait until he is well."

"Agreed," said Ser Denys at once and other Night's Watch men added their agreement as well. Thorne seemed to want to protest this but held his tongue as Ser Denys continued. "We have more pressing matters. We have beaten back the wildling attack on the Shadow Tower and here the men of Castle Black have held firm as well. But the wildlings are still out there."

"So are the Others," Ned added and that brought looks of fear from some of them and skeptical looks from others.

"The Others," Thorne said with undisguised contempt in his voice. "You have been listening to a craven fat boy's tales, Lord Stark."

"Aye," Ned said in a firm tone. "Listening and learning as you should be too, Ser Alliser. The Others are real enough. Sam Tarly killed an Other."

"So say Tarly and those he was with," Thorne countered. "Who knows what they saw and did? I still think Tarly and his friends killed Commander Mormont after they fled from the fight at the Fist. They should all be in ice cells and then hung from the Wall by their necks." For a moment Ned thought he was going to say 'alongside Lord Snow' but he did not.

"No," Maester Aemon said once more to Thorne's dislike. "Sam Tarly did not kill the commander. Grenn saw it all, knows who did the killing."

"If they did not kill him, they still did nothing to stop it," Thorne answered in a cold tone.

Ser Denys shook his head. "We cannot condemn men for the actions of others. We know what sort did the killing and raped Crastor's wives and daughters. Murderers and rapists and thieves. The kind of men the realm gives us, that we try to turn into men of the Night's Watch, but in their hearts they are still what they were when they came to us."

"There are still many good men in the Watch," Ned said to them.

"Fewer and fewer," said an old man of the Watch whose name Ned could not recall.

"And less now," Maester Aemon added. "We sorely need Lord Stark and his bannermen's aid to defeat the Others and the wights."

"And the wildlings," Bowen Marsh reminded them, speaking for the first time. He had a bandage around his head, a wound caused by a wildling club during the attack at the bridge over the Gorge near the Shadow Tower, Ned had heard.

"Plenty of enemies we have," Ned told them. "Some from the myths of the past. But now we know the wights and Others are no myth."

"We have known that for some time," Maester Aemon reminded them. "Two of them tried to kill the Commander and would have if not for Jon Snow and his direwolf."

"We all know this," Thorne said impatiently. "The wights are one thing, but the Others? Just legends, I say."

"Legends that swarmed up the Fist of the First Men and struck down our brothers, who were helpless to fight back," Ser Denys said with scorn to Ser Alliser. "How can you not see that?"

Thorne grunted. "Mayhaps it is true," he said with some reluctance. "Then how do we stop them?"

"With fire and dragonglass weapons," the maester answered. "Valyrian steel will do just as well if my research is correct."

Thorne snorted. "Valyrian steel? We may as well wish for winter not to come."

"How many Valyrian steel weapons do you have?" Beric Dondarrion asked.

"Unfortunately, only one," the maester told him. "Jon Snow's Longclaw."

"Two," Ned corrected him. "My sword Ice is made from Valyrian steel."

Thorne seemed to almost grin. "Well then Lord Stark, when the time comes you and your bastard can be in the front ranks."

Ned grunted, ignoring the insult to Jon. "Starks are always in the front ranks when it comes to defending the Wall and the North."

"And in leading rebellions," Thorne added, glaring down the length of the table at Ned.

The Greatjon pounded his fist on the table. "Ned! He insults you and your boy to no end. Let me gut him if you will not!"

"Aye!" Steelshanks shouted. "I would do the deed just as gladly." His hand went to his sword hilt and for a second Ned thought he saw a glint of fear in Thorne's eyes as his façade of contempt cracked just a little.

There was silence for a long moment and the men of the North and the Night's Watch stared at each other with suspicion and anger. Finally, Ned spoke. "Ser Alliser has his reasons to dislike me and mine. But we should not let that get in the way of the task we have to do. I am willing to put aside my anger if Ser Alliser can put aside his."

For another long moment there was silence as everyone looked at Ser Alliser. "As you wish, Lord Stark," he finally said, and Ned thought he sensed a hint of relief in his tone. "We will share the difficult tasks ahead," Thorne continued. "I have been a man of the Night's Watch for fifteen years now. I have taken the oath to defend the realm. At least I will not break my oath. But know this. I am in command of Castle Black and…"

"For the nonce," Maester Aemon interrupted.

"Be careful old man," Thorne said to Aemon as he turned to him in anger. "When the votes are counted and my name is called as the next commander you will rue every time you have spoken with scorn and derision to me these past many years. And to think I once supported your kin when they sat the Iron Thorne."

"I am a maester of the Citadel," Aemon Targaryen reminded Thorne. "I serve the Night's Watch, not the Iron Thorne or my family. For almost seventy years now I have been on the Wall and advised each and every commander. If you are chosen as the next commander, I will serve you as well."

Thorne grunted. "Then start now by keeping quiet unless asked for your opinions." No one said a word so Thorne turned back to Ned. "I am in command of Castle Black and the men of the Night's Watch here. They will follow my orders only."

"As you wish," Ned replied. "My bannermen will follow my orders. But we must have a joint plan if we are to succeed."

Thorne nodded. "Agreed."

At least he had some common sense, Ned thought. "So, my lords and friends of the Night's Watch. What shall we do?"

All at once it seemed like everyone was talking. Thorne said they should send an assassin to kill Mance Rayder and then the wildlings would be leaderless and would scatter. Ned had already heard of this plan from Maester Aemon. Thorne had meant to send Jon as an envoy and an assassin when Mance Rayder asked for a parley. But the other commanders had stopped such a foolish plan.

Ser Denys then said they should march to one of the old forts to the east or west and unblock the gate and go through and attack the wildlings from the flanks. The Greatjon was all for this plan, as were some others. Someone else suggested marching to Eastwatch, joining up with the men there and then marching back on the north side of the Wall to attack the wildlings from the east. But this idea was shouted down as it would take much time and effort to march and counter march. Thoros said they should somehow set the haunted forest afire to drive the wildlings into the open near the Wall where they could be slaughtered or at least drive them away to the north or west. Ned had to grin at that suggestion. Thoros loved his fires.

Ned listened and said nothing as they argued and finally he raised a hand to get their attention. After a moment the Greatjon noticed and bellowed for silence.

"I would hear what Maester Aemon thinks," Ned told them. Maester Aemon had said nothing as the others had argued.

All eyes turned to the blind, aged maester. He cleared his throat and then spoke in his slow ponderous way. "I have been thinking on this problem for many days now…years even. Some day I knew the myths would become reality. That the Others would walk the world again. The wildlings…they are people…like us…"

"They are savages," Steelshanks interrupted.

"Aye," agreed the Greatjon. "They raid my lands and kill my people every time they cross the Wall."

"True," Maester Aemon concurred. "But they are people still the same. They have the same enemy as we do…the Others and their wights, which I am sure we can agree are not people. At least not anymore. We should be fighting this common foe…together."

Ned was as surprised as the rest of them by this suggestion. Thorne immediately spoke harshly to the maester. "Treason! It is treason to speak of such!"

"I don't know," said Ser Denys thoughtfully. "Treason it may be, but we have never been in such a situation before. Perhaps it is time for a new approach."

"Have you lost your wits, Ser Denys?" Thorne asked with scorn. "What would the wildlings ask in return for joining forces with us? What do you propose we do with them after the battle is finished? Let them through the Wall?"

Ser Denys' mouth opened as if to speak but he said nothing and then he sighed wearily. "No, we cannot do that."

"Perhaps it is time to offer them just that," Maester Aemon countered. "Time we offered them a place in the realm,"

"NO!" roared the Greatjon as he slammed his mug on the table and stood. "They have attacked and robbed and raped my people too often! We will give them no comfort this side of the Wall except steel in their bellies and a fiery funeral pyre!"

"I must agree with Lord Umber," Ned told them at once as he looked at Lord Umber and he got the hint to take his seat again. "Aside from the matter of trust, how would we feed them and shelter them? A long winter is soon upon our lands and we have barely enough food and fodder for our own."

"Aye," said Walton and other Northmen agreed as well.

Now Beric Dondarrion spoke up. "I am not of the North or the Night's Watch and I know little of these wildlings. I agree that it would be difficult to let them through the Wall and give them shelter and food. But they don't need to go through the Wall to fight the wights and Others. If they are the enemies of the wights and Others, how can we not at least try to work together to defeat them? Perhaps once the Others are defeated they will return to their own lands, to live as they have always live."

"Wildlings can't be trusted," the Greatjon told him with a glint of anger in his eyes. "They would work with us against the Others and then they'd stab us in the back first chance they get!" This brought more nods and words of agreement.

"To deal with the wildlings we must deal with Mance Rayder," Thorne reminded them. "We will not treat with him. He is a traitor and must pay the price of desertion."

Ned could not disagree with that. It was the custom. He had swung Ice at the necks of Night's Watch deserters on more than one occasion.

Maester Aemon sighed. "True, all true. But if you will not treat with Mance Rayder then we must fight him and his many thousands and giants and mammoths. Then if we win we must deal with the Others and their armies of wights as well. And each wildling we kill and fail to burn arises as a new wight. Can we prevail against such odds?"

There was a long silence in the dining hall, the only sound the crackling of the fires that kept them warm. Ned looked at them and he saw doubt and fear and indecision. The men of the Night's Watch would not, could not, treat with Mance Rayder or the wildlings, even though he asked for a parley. But no such restriction was placed on Ned.

"I will treat with Mance Rayder," he said and then a storm of words broke out and for many minutes they argued back and forth. Accusations flew and fists were pounded on the table and angry glares were traded. Through it all Ned stayed silent. Finally, Ned had had enough and he stood and started for the door.

"Lord Stark!" Ser Denys shouted as he stood. Ned stopped and the arguing stopped as well. "Where are you going, my lord?"

"To my bed," Ned told him. "I need my rest. It is a long road back to Winterfell." He looked to the Greatjon and Walton and the other Northern lords. "We leave in the morning, my lords. See to your men."

This announcement brought shocked looks from all, except Maester Aemon who grinned, although no one but Ned saw him as they were all looking at Ned.

"You would desert us?" Ser Denys asked in shock.

Thorne also looked shocked for a moment and then he scoffed. "He is bluffing. He is Warden of the North. He must come when we call or King Stannis will have his head."

"Aye, that is my duty to the realm," Ned admitted. "But I will not suffer this endless bickering any longer. If you cannot decide, and decide now on a plan of action, my men and I will leave. We have strong fortresses, with plenty of food and fodder in storage. We can withstand anything the wildlings throw at us. They will starve and freeze to death before they take what is ours. We will find a way to defeat these Others as well. But we must march now before the heavy snows come."

The Greatjon stared at Ned as if he was mad and then he grinned slightly and stood. "Aye, my lord."

Walton followed and then the other Northern lords and Thoros and Dondarrion stood as well. Finally, Thorne sighed heavily in resignation. "What would you have us do, Lord Stark?"

"Nothing except what you have always done…man the Wall," Ned told him. "Maester Aemon has the right of it. We must make common cause with the wildlings. But it will be my men who fight alongside them if need be." The Greatjon looked like he was about to protest this but held his tongue for once in his life. "The Night's Watch cannot treat with Mance Rayder," Ned continued. "But I can and I will. In the morning. The men of the Night's Watch will stay at their posts and support us with food and fodder and fire. Protect the Wall as you have done from the day my ancestor built the Wall. That way you will not break your oaths by siding with Mance Rayder. I suggest we all get some rest. We will have little time for sleep in the days to come."

With that he left, not waiting for Thorne or the others to agree or disagree with him. They could like it or not, but Ned knew it had to be done. They were not strong enough to fight the wildlings and the Others at the same time. He had to make Mance Rayder understand that. He had asked for a parley. Maybe he understood it as well as Ned did.

Ned's bannermen and Thoros and Dondarrion had followed him out the door.

"You mean to do it, Ned?" the Greatjon asked him at once.

"Aye, Jon, I do," Ned replied. "I know you have no love for the wildlings. But it is time to put aside our hatred. There is something more deadly out there than our enemies of old."

To his relief the Greatjon grinned and clapped Ned on the shoulder. "You always have the right of it. But know this, Ned. I do not trust Mance Rayder or any other wildling and neither should you."

"Aye," Ned replied. "Trust will be thin on the ground from both sides I should expect. We will talk again in the morning my lords. Best get some rest."

He bade them goodnight and they went their separate ways. As he was heading back to Jon's chambers to tell Jon and Robb what was going on Ned heard a voice behind him.

"Lord Stark," said Maester Aemon, walking on the arm of his steward. "I need have words with you, my lord."

Ned wanted nothing more than to say goodnight to Jon and then rest but he knew Maester Aemon would not ask to speak with him unless it was important. "Aye," he said and soon they were in Aemon's quarters. After serving them wine his steward left them alone.

"How did they take my decision?" Ned asked right away.

"As well as can be expected," the maester replied. "They have no love for Mance Rayder. He was one of us once, and he deserted. Now he brings his new friends to attack us. They want him dead. But they will do as you wish…for now."

"All understandable," Ned answered. "It would be my duty to execute him if I capture him as well. But now is not the time. Not with things we cannot understand, things from the legends of the past, walking the world again, wanting to kill all that live and breathe. We must get the wildlings to agree to fight with us."

"I should tell you it was not my idea to join forces with them."

"Oh? Whose suggestion was it?"

"Your son's."

"Aye?" Ned replied in surprise. "That was wise of him. I must confess…I had not expected so much from Jon."

"Why is that, my lord?" Maester Aemon asked. "He is your son, is he not? He has the blood of the Starks and the First Men in him. You and yours have been leaders of the North for thousands of years."

It was true, Jon did have Stark blood…just not Ned's. As he looked at the maester Ned wondered how much of Jon came from the other side of his family, from his true father's blood. They were leaders of men as well, leaders and conquerors and kings and queens. Another thought struck Ned suddenly. Aemon Targaryen's kin had died because of Robert's Rebellion, which Ned had played a major role in. Did the old maester bear some ill will toward Ned and Jon? No, Ned knew at once. He had supported Jon, helped him, and now he supported Ned as well.

Ned spoke on why he thought Jon would be less than he was proving to be. "He has always lived in the shadow of my son Robb and he has keenly felt this all his life, knowing he was not a true son of mine and could inherit nothing. My wife has made life hard for Jon. …she despises him. It made Jon wary and shy and withdrawn. When Robert asked me to go to King's Landing to be his Hand, my wife said Jon must go from Winterfell. I could not take him to the capital, to the royal court, not with him being a…what he is. Jon solved the issue for us by declaring he wanted to join the Night's Watch. Truthfully, I felt some relief when I learned this. I knew life would be hard for him, that he would have no place in Winterfell when he became a man. Perhaps the Watch is the best place for him."

"Best for us, I cannot disagree with that, my lord," Maester Aemon answered. "Commander Mormont saw the good qualities in Jon before any of us did, even you it seems. Jon was chosen to be his steward by Mormont's own orders. Jon was angry at first, for he wanted to be a ranger. He thought Thorne had chosen him for the stewards as another way to punish him. The stewards are usually the weakest, those not well suited for battle, or who have some book learning or experience in some trade position we need filled. Jon did not see that as personal steward for Mormont that the Old Bear was grooming him for command in the future. Sam Tarly saw it though, and soon Jon knew as well, and accepted his position as steward."

"Jon, Commander of the Watch some day?" Ned mused. "Aye, perhaps he might have been but after what he has done, I think the Watch would not vote him as commander."

"Do not be so sure," Maester Aemon replied. "Many men here support Jon and would follow him gladly."

Ned grinned, feeling proud of Jon again. "Aye, he has proven himself, there is no doubt of that. I was thinking on having him join me to treat with Mance Rayder since he knows him."

"Mance Rayder may not take kindly to seeing Jon Snow again, who turned his cloak black once more."

"Aye, there is that," Ned replied and put aside his plan to have Jon join him. "What advice would you give me for treating with the wildlings?"

"To begin you should not call them wildlings," Maester Aemon advised. "The 'free folk' they call themselves."

"Aye, I have heard that from my brother Benjen. What other advice can you give?"

"Do not presume to give them orders like you do your bannermen. They may follow you, but only because they want to, not because they must. And if they agree to join forces with us, they will argue every decision, even more so than my black brothers. You must be patient with them and your lords must know this as well. They will perceive any attempt to put them under your thumb as an insult, so be careful in how you speak to their leaders. Speak to them as equals and you should be fine."

"They sound like a difficult people."

"They are…thankfully. If they been more organized the Wall may have fallen centuries ago."

Ned could not disagree with that. "What can you tell me about Mance Rayder? I have never met the man."

"Oh, but you have, Lord Stark."

Ned raised his eyebrows. "I think I would remember meeting this so-called King Beyond the Wall."

"Perhaps meeting is not the correct word. But he has seen you and your family. Jon Snow has told me a tale about Mance Rayder and you Lord Stark. He does know you, has seen you in Winterfell."

That took Ned aback. "How?"

Maester Aemon told him about Jon's long conversation with Mance Rayder about why he left the Night's Watch and finally about Mance's visit during the banquet for King Robert. Ned could not believe it.

"It is true according to Jon Snow," said Maester Aemon. "He sat and played and sang and drank and supped with you and yours, with the King and his Queen and all the other princes and princesses and lordlings."

"To think he was right there," Ned said with a shake of his head. "Benjen was there and did not notice him either."

"I think Benjen never met him. Mance was always at the Shadow Tower, your brother here at Castle Black, and Mance deserted not too many years after your brother joined us."

That had to be the right of it otherwise Benjen would have known who the bard was who sang and played at the banquet. Benjen would have gutted him then and there. In a way Ned felt a grudging admiration for Mance Rayder, to be so bold as to do such a thing. But Ned did not forget he was a deserter and an enemy and would need be treated with carefully when he met him. "What are the chances he will join us?" he asked.

"Good, I think," Maester Aemon answered. "He has asked for a parley, after all. From what Jon reported, the main reasons they are attacking now, trying to get through the Wall to the south, is because the Others have arisen. He also reports that perhaps the wildlings may be to blame for this new awakening of old myths. The girl Ygritte told him Mance had them digging in the old frozen lichyards up north, opening graves, looking for a magic horn he believes can bring down the Wall."

"Bring down the Wall? Surely that is impossible."

"The free folk believe in the legend. Mance believes it. However, the girl claimed they never found such a horn. Perhaps they unwittingly unleashed the Others and the wights on themselves and us. Perhaps we will never know the truth of it, why they come now."

"Perhaps they walk again because a terrible winter is coming, maester," Ned told him in a grim tone. "I feel it in my bones. A cold like none any living man has known, even you. So much snow that it will bury even Winterfell's high walls and turrets and battlements."

Maester Aemon nodded his aged head. "The men who retreated from the Fist of the First Men say that a terrible cold came on them before the Others and wights attacked. But was it the cold that brought them, or did they bring the cold?"

"A good question. I have no answer."

"Neither do I."

A long silence fell between them, one an aged man of knowledge and the another a much younger man of the sword. Ned finished his cup of wine, thanked the maester and started to rise when Aemon said one more thing.

"The Wall will stop them, Lord Stark. The Wall stopped them in the past. That's why your ancestor built it."

Ned felt a sudden chill and his spine tingled and he had an immense feeling of dread. "And if it doesn't stop them?"

Blind old Aemon Targaryen looked up from his wine cup and his milky white sightless eyes seemed to be staring right though Ned. "Then may the old gods and the new protect us. If we don't stop them here Lord Stark, the Others and their legions will overrun the Seven Kingdoms and destroy all in their path."


	3. Chapter 3 Varys

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 3 – Varys**

Life on the pole boat _Shy Maid_ was nowhere near as comfortable as Illyrio's manse in Pentos, Lord Varys thought for the umpteenth time as the boat slowly made its way downriver to Volantis. The food was nowhere near as grand as the multi-course banquets Illyrio insisted on having day and night. The bed of flour sacks he slept on that were placed on the deck were so uncomfortable Varys feared his back would never be straight again. Worst of all, the man who led the boat and its crew was taciturn and suspicious, especially after he saw Varys again after so many years.

"You!" exiled Lord Jon Connington had almost shouted when Varys climbed off his horse by the riverside near the _Shy Maid_ after the long journey from Pentos on the old Valyrian road. A knight named Ser Rolly Duckfield and a chainless maester named Haldon had accompanied him the rest of the way to the upper tributary of the great Rhoyne River after meeting Illyrio and Varys on the road. They had traveled slowly and in some comfort from Pentos, but after he met the knight and maester the pace picked up and few comforts were to be found.

His stay in Pentos had lasted almost a month and while there Varys did not remain idle. He still had little birds this side of the Narrow Sea and Illyrio also had many friends and informers. Together they wove a web of intelligence gathering over the port city, just like when they were young men taking their first steps toward greatness. Gold and silver paid for it all. There was no lack of coin and Illyrio was as generous as he had always been since his great wealth began to grow and grow.

Varys questioned many ships' captains who had come from Westeros, picking their brains for news of the war. He heard how the Starks had returned to Winterfell to find it set afire by ironmen raiders, how Theon Greyjoy had escaped their justice, and how his uncle Euron Crow's Eye had returned to the Iron Islands to claim his dead brother's Seastone Chair. Other stories were told of how the Lannisters had retreated from King's Landing after failing to take the city again and after the Iron Fleet had attacked Lannisport. He heard that Tyrion Lannister was now Hand for King Tommen once again, and how the other king, Stannis, sat brooding on the Iron Throne trying to decide his next move. From one ship in particular came strange news, news received the day before Varys finally set forth on his journey to meet the _Shy Maid_. From a Braavosi ship that had traded at Eastwatch on the Sea Varys learned of strange events at the Wall, about an attack by wildlings and there was even word of the Others arising again from the snow and ice.

More news came from the east. Varys questioned a few captains who had sailed the long dangerous route from Qarth and Slaver's Bay. The stories about Daenerys Targaryen were true it seemed. She had come out of the Red Waste with a few Dothraki followers and a Westerosi knight who had to be Ser Jorah Mormont. Her dragons were real and one sailor who had been to Qarth swore to the Seven, the old gods, and then every god in the world that he had seen the three dragons himself. They were but babes yet, but Varys knew if they survived they would grow into fearsome creatures. Then came word that Daenerys had left Qarth and landed in Slaver's Bay at Astapor. She acquired an army of Unsullied warriors, attracted some sellsword companies to her cause, and went on the attack in Slaver's Bay. She sacked Astapor, then took Yunkai, and finally overwhelmed Meereen. She was smashing the slave trade and as more of this news filtered in Illyrio had grown despondent.

"This was not as we planned," he said to Varys one night while they dined. "Many and more depend on the slave trade."

"Including you?" Varys asked, already knowing it was true. He had been a slave himself as a boy, but he felt no anger towards Illyrio for they had been through too much together.

"A small part of my doings, I assure you," Illyrio told him, a bit reluctantly. "But this will anger those in Volantis and elsewhere. They will rise up and strike her down. She was supposed to head west, not conquer the east. I sent Ser Barristan and three ships to bring her here. What ever possessed her to do such folly?"

"She is not the trembling girl you and her brother gave to Khal Drogo," Varys reminded his friend. "She is becoming the queen she was meant to be."

Illyrio smiled, a bit wanly, Varys thought. "Just so. There is naught we can do about it except support her. At least she is gathering an army about her. Hopefully she will soon march west to join Connington and the prince and the Golden Company. Then all will be ready for the return to the west."

As he said this not for the first time Varys wondered how Daenerys would take the news that another Targaryen heir lived, one with a stronger claim to the Iron Throne than hers. In Illyrio's grand scheme they had wisely kept the two separated, never telling Viserys or his sister that Aegon still lived, in hopes that at least one of the three would live to adulthood and be ready to re-claim the Iron Throne for their family. What would Viserys have done if he knew his nephew still lived? If he knew that Illyrio had plans for the boy Aegon to marry his aunt, renewing a Targaryen tradition of old? What would Daenerys have done? What would she do now?

What troubled Varys was that this Targaryen princess had already been wed, to a strong horse lord. When he died she had led those still loyal to her out of the Red Waste. She had raised an army, had sacked cities, had smashed the slave trade. Would she even accept Aegon or see him as another obstacle to the Iron Throne? Would she even believe he was of her blood or a pretender?

Cries of pretender would plague Aegon's attempts to take Westeros unless he had some legitimacy to his claim. All believed he was dead. Many knew his aunt was not, and rumors were filtering west of her and her dragons. Marrying Daenerys would make Aegon seem more Targaryen, strengthening his claim. If she would have him. But the answer to that question would have to wait until Varys reached Volantis and hopefully Daenerys.

Before he left Pentos from Illyrio Varys had learned all he could about exiled Lord Jon Connington and Prince Aegon and their companions. He already knew much of this, having played a crucial part of the near sixteen year conspiracy to save Aegon and raise him to be a king. Now on the banks of the river Varys saw the boy again after so many years, standing on the deck of the pole boat, looking at Varys with curiosity. He was tall and lanky, comely like his father, but a bit darker, with more than a drop of his mother's Dornish blood. His almost silver hair was now dyed purple in the manner of Tyrosh, and it helped to deflect an observer from noticing his eyes, which now seemed dark blue, and then slightly purple, depending on the light.

Jon Connington had the same blue hair, but some red roots of his true coloring were showing and he still had red eyebrows. Varys knew they were passing as father and son, humble merchants who owned a pole boat and plied the trade routes of the Rhoyne. It had not always been so. The first five years of his life Aegon had lived under close guard at Illyrio's manse in Pentos. Few people except some wet nurses and Illyrio's servants and guards saw him.

Then when he was beginning to talk and walk Illyrio came in contact with Jon Connington, the former Hand of King Aerys who had been exiled by the Mad King when he had failed to stop Robert Baratheon at the Battle of the Bells. Connington was selling his sword and living one day to the next, and there were even rumors he was dead. He wasn't but he might as just as well be dead. He was a broken man. His best friend had been Rhaegar Targaryen. Once when in his cups Connington had told Varys that when he heard the news of the Trident and that his best friend was dead he had wept and cursed Robert and Mad Aerys and the gods.

Illyrio and Varys gave him a reprieve from his downward spiral in life. Illyrio's agents contacted him, promised him riches if he would come to Pentos to serve Illyrio as captain of his guards. He was mistrustful, wary, but a bag full of Illyrio's promised riches did the trick and Connington came. When he arrived he found Varys there and he almost killed him since Varys now served the Usurper. But he stayed his hand and they explained all and introduced him to Aegon, who was near three at the time. Connington called them madmen and liars but when he looked into Aegon's near purple eyes and he saw his friend Rhaegar reborn, Connington knew it to be true. Coin brought him to Pentos, and loyalty to his dead friend and a desire to return to his homeland made him stay and become part of their strategy.

Connington needed a new cover story or some would wonder where the noble exiled lord had gotten to. Varys provided all. He spread the story that Connington was accused of stealing from the Golden Company, was banished, and then had gone to Lys to sell his sword but drown himself in wine and anything else that numbed his pain until he died. Then Varys let it be known to all that Connington was dead, most likely of drink. It was better this way. No one would look for him or think much on him if he was rumored dead, especially in so inglorious a manner.

When Varys had told King Robert this news Robert merely grunted and said Connington was one of the best he had ever faced in single combat and that Mad Aerys had treated him shamefully. He had to be one of the best, Varys thought, to escape Robert's wrath at the Battle of the Bells. Varys often wondered if Robert would have pardoned Connington if he had come home. He had pardoned many others who had bent the knee to him. But Varys also knew that Connington despised Robert and all he stood for. Robert had killed Connington's best friend after all, and would most likely take no pardon from the man he called Usurper.

The years passed slowly as the toddler Aegon grew into a child and then a young man. Connington stayed by his side and taught him all he knew of his father and family and how to be a proper man and king. Others joined them, a chainless maester named Haldon and a comely septa called Lemore to educate him and teach him of the world and the gods. Later a Westerosi sellsword from the Golden Company, Rolly, now Ser Rolly Duckfield, joined them to teach Aegon to be a swordsman.

By the time the sellsword had joined them they had moved to the countryside to a ranch Illyrio owned. As the boy grew older it was harder to keep him hidden inside the walls of Illyrio's manse. He was restless, wanted to see the world, to return to his homelands, but they needed more time, to train him and raise him to be a king. His silver hair had been cut off to hide it when he was a tot, but as he grew older his baldness would attract suspicion from strangers they chanced on in the countryside and so they dyed it purple and Connington did the same. They fabricated a story that Connington was his father and his dead mother had been from Tyrosh. They went by the names Griff and Young Griff.

Now Varys met them again for the first time in many years and Connington's eyes were full of suspicion. He had never trusted Varys and Varys knew he wondered why he had come after so long apart from their venture. He was older than the last time Varys had seen him, as Varys was sure he seemed to Connington. Now as he stood on the pole boat's after deck looking up at Varys, a scowl was etched onto the exiled lord's clean shaven face, and he reluctantly took the rolled up parchment with Illyrio's seal which Varys handed him. Connington opened it quickly and read and then stared at Varys.

"So be it," he said and nodded for Varys to step aboard the pole boat. Young Prince Aegon was nearby and looked at this stranger up and down.

"Greetings…Young Griff," Varys said with a slight bow of his head.

"You know who he is, stop playing the mummer," Connington said gruffly.

"I think it best if we keep up the pretext, even amongst ourselves," Varys replied and Connington only grunted an affirmation.

"He knows who I am, but who is he?" Aegon asked.

"Lord Varys," said Duck as he climbed aboard carrying a chest, one of many that Illyrio had given them. Haldon and another man, older and with the look of the people of the Dornish Riverlands, came behind him, each carrying a chest. They started to stow them in the hold of the boat.

"Varys?" Aegon said in surprise after he looked to Connington and the exiled lord nodded. "Are you really Lord Varys?"

"I am."

"He is here to help us in our quest," Connington said as he helped the other men stow the chests.

Prince Aegon looked with suspicion at Varys. "I have heard you serve the court at King's Landing. That they call you the Spider. That you serve those who overthrew my family."

"I did serve them," said Varys in a repentant manner. "I also served your grandfather for many years. I am a lord of the realm. I serve who rules, even if I find serving distasteful. And I will serve you as well when you ascend the Iron Throne."

"How can I trust a man who served those who killed my family?" Aegon asked and out of the corner of his eye Varys saw Connington smile.

Varys shrugged. "Trust me or trust me not. But know this, Prince Aegon, soon to be King Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of his Name. It was I who saved you from the wrath of Tywin Lannister and his minions. I who smuggled you out of King's Landing and across the Narrow Sea to Pentos. I think that act alone is at least worthy of some of your trust."

The boy smiled a bit. "I have heard this tale from Illyrio. Then you are indeed Lord Varys. I dimly recall you from my childhood but have not seen you for many years." Ten years to be exact, Varys knew. Aegon stepped toward him and then clapped his right hand on Varys rounded left shoulder. "I thank you Lord Varys…for my life. You shall be rewarded handsomely when I come into my inheritance."

"Thank you, my prince, but knowing the realm is at peace again and your family sits the Iron Throne once more shall be reward enough for me."

The chests were now stored and Connington turned to Aegon and Varys. "Lord Varys and I need to talk and you have your lessons, Young Griff," Connington told the prince and soon he was gone with Haldon to the cabin of the boat.

Connington then introduced Varys to the rest of the crew. First came Yandry, who captained the pole boat, and his wife Ysilla, who turned out to be their cook. Varys had heard of them from Illyrio but had never met them. He knew little about them except they were from Dorne, of the people known as the Orphans of the Greenblood River, descendants of those who had first come to Dorne with Nymeria in the Rhoynar Invasion a thousand years ago. They had refused to be assimilated, continuing their Rhoynar traditions, including living on pole boats on river ways. Illyrio had brought them into his service many years ago and they eagerly accepted a chance to return to their ancestral homeland. They and their pole boat served as a convenient cover for Connington's party, able to move easily up or down the Rhoyne if need be.

Then Varys met Septa Lemore. He had met her once before, years ago when she had first come into their service. She was still a comely woman even as she advanced toward middle age. A woman many men would like to bed, Varys knew, even though she wore the soft white robes of a septa.

"Lord Varys," she said with a slight dip of her head. "How fair things in Westeros?"

"Still war, my dear septa," Varys said gravely. "The Lannisters are not yet defeated but have retreated to their western homelands while Stannis still sits in King's Landing."

"And Dorne?" she asked, with almost a hint of worry in her tone. "What news of Dorne?"

Varys almost smiled at this question. He had long suspected she was from Dorne and had some connection to the Martell family. So his little birds told him and there was one story which said she could be the mother of one of the Red Viper's bastard daughters. "Some, but it is little," he replied. "So far they remain neutral. Prince Doran is ever a patient man. But his brother Oberyn is not, and the fate of Dorne and its people as always depends on which brother's will prevails, the man of wisdom or the man of action."

She smiled slightly. "The Red Viper was never a patient man."

"Do you know him?" Varys asked, faking an expression of curiosity as he asked.

She blanched for just a moment, not noticeable to an untrained observer, but to Varys' eyes it was all too obvious. "No," Lemore replied. "But his temperament is well known in the west, is it not?"

"Indeed it is," Varys replied. "As is his lustful nature and ability to plant only bastard daughters in the wombs of those he beds."

He had tried to shock her, to see if she would lash out at him in anger but instead she only nodded once. "He is known for that as well," Lemore replied evenly. "Excuse me, Lord Varys." She turned and went below.

Connington stepped in front of Varys and gave him an evil look. "You had best not play your game of intrigue on our boat, Spider," he growled in a low voice. "Leave her and the others be. They will tell you their stories if they wish. Do not pry. We are a small crew, yes, but we have been together many years now and know and trust each other. You we know as a master of intrigue and secrets so do not be surprised if they talk little to you. A peaceful boat is what I want. Enemies enough we have elsewhere. Cause any trouble and…" He nodded to the river and grinned. Varys got the point as swiftly as anyone would.

"As you say,…Griff." Varys knew Connington disliked him intensely and would perhaps relish tossing him overboard. For that and other reasons Varys knew he could not trust Connington. His stake in this venture was two fold – revenge on those who had destroyed his world, and a desire to return to his home and restore his and his family's name and reputation. Connington needed Varys and the others to do so. It seemed he had some affection for those on the boat, especially the prince. But there was none for Varys.

The exiled lord disliked him for many reasons, especially for forcing him to accept the idea that he had stolen coin from the Golden Company and died a drunkard. Few people knew the truth of that lie, only the commander of the Golden Company at the time, Varys, Illyrio, and those on the pole boat. The old commander of the company was dead but the new one, Homeless Harry Strickland, knew the truth as well.

Connington disliked him also because Varys had stood with the other lords in the main courtroom of the Red Keep in King's Landing as Mad King Aerys scolded him for failing to stop Robert Baratheon and then humiliated him further by stripping him of his position as Hand of the King and all his other titles and lands. Then came the ultimate humiliation, banishment from Westeros. Varys knew Connington believed that Varys was in part to blame, because the whole court believed that Varys had great influence on the Mad King and always listened to the whispers of Varys. In this case it was a falsehood. The Mad King had decided Connington's punishment all on his own and none dared raise a voice to oppose his will.

"We have much to discuss," Varys said to the exiled lord. "Let us find a quiet spot so I can tell all the news of Westeros and the east."

Connington bade him to follow and they retired to his cabin and spent the late afternoon and early evening in discussions as the pole boat stayed tied up to the river bank. For the most part Connington listened as Varys told him all that went on in the west, about the battles around King's Landing, the trouble many had with the ironmen, and of events at the Wall. When he was done Connington only said they would sail south on the morrow, to find the Golden Company, and after that they would need make plans to head east to join Daenerys or wait for her to join them. He spoke as if he were Hand of the King again, in a tone that brooked no arguments, and so Varys agreed with him, for the time being.

That was the plan Illyrio had told him in Pentos, after all. She should have been marching west by now, and perhaps she had started out already, before she could be bottled up in Slaver's Bay. Varys' news of the east was stale, weeks old by now, and so they would have to do as Connington ordered, sail south, find the Golden Company, and gather as much information as they could.

Later on deck they all had an evening meal of bread and dried fish and boiled pease, with strong ale and rough red wine to wash it down. The food was nourishing but of poorer fare than he was used to after a month of luxurious living with Illyrio. Perhaps it was for the best though, for Varys had grown plumper during his stay in Pentos and the days and months ahead would require him to stay healthy and vigorous.

As the moon rose and the night grew on Connington gave orders for them to take turns at watch, including Varys.

"I have no weapons," Varys told them. It was a slight lie for he did have his dagger he had taken from the Lannister camp hidden up his wide left sleeve.

"Not to worry," said Duck with a broad grin framed by his shaggy beard. "No one comes this way except the odd pole boat, traders mostly."

"What of the pirates you mentioned on our journey here?" Varys asked. Duck and Haldon had tried to scare him with tales of river pirates and stone men with the horrid greyscale affliction that inhabited the Rhoyne waiting to waylaid the unwary who came their way. Varys knew it was all true and the boat's captain confirmed it.

"They are real enough," said Yandry with an uneasy look toward the water. "But they rarely venture so far north."

Haldon spoke up. "Best give him a spear or sword, Duck."

Duck looked to Connington and he nodded. Duck went to the cabin roof and pulled down a long spear and handed it to Varys. "Can you use it?"

Varys tittered. "If you ask if I have learned to master arms, I am afraid the answer is no. I believe you just stick them with the sharp end, yes?"

Duck laughed. "That's the way of it. But if a boat comes near you wake the rest of us first. If they get in close try to push off their boat with the spear. Then stick them if need be."

"And if they come from the landward side?

Duck shrugged. "Then say a prayer to the gods. But not before you scream for us…if your throat remains uncut."

Duck laughed as Aegon grinned and turned to Varys. "Ser Rolly likes to jest, Lord Varys. There will be no trouble. As Yandry says, this far north there are few people, few boats and therefore fewer pirates."

"That's because there is nothing to steal up here," Duck added unnecessarily as Varys had already gotten the point. He knew pirates preyed only on ships with cargoes worth stealing. This empty forsaken land of the Upper Rhoyne had nothing of worth and few people and therefore attracted few traders. Once it had been a fertile, populated land but even after a thousand years since Nymeria had taken her people to Dorne the lands remained mostly empty.

They continued their preparations for the night, the men checking the ropes that tied their boat and making sure the big single sail was secured as well. The night was a bit chilly so they lit a single brazier on the after deck. Varys had worn warm clothing in the journey from Pentos, but he knew as they traveled south it would get much hotter. He had one bag with him, filled with his few possession, mostly clothing, linen shirts and silken robes for the most part. He also had the things he needed to change his appearance if need be. A large sack of coins lay at the bottom of his bag, for whatever lay ahead. Most of them were coins of Volantis as that is where they planned to go. In Volantis and the cities which lined the lower river Illyrio had friends who could provide more coin and food and shelter if need be.

Ysilla made him a bed on deck from some flour sacks and Septa Lemore gave him some blankets. "Do not worry on what they said," she assured him. "We are safe here. But further downriver, caution is the order of the day…and night."

Varys thank her for her advice and the blankets. As she turned to head to the main cabin she paused. "What gods do you pray to Lord Varys?"

"None," he told her. He awaited the look of disapproval or shock he often got when he told people this, which is why he rarely spoke on religion with anyone. But she only pursed her lips together, bade him goodnight, and turned to the cabin.

Varys lay down under his blankets on his bed of flour sacks as all the others except Connington went to bed in the cabin, on more comfortable beds he did not doubt. The exiled lord sat on a keg of ale and ate an apple as he looked out over the river, his eyes ever moving, looking in all directions. Occasionally he got up and paced the deck. Varys tried to get comfortable but soon gave up and lay thinking on Lemore's question. He had once believed in the gods, the Seven, when he was a small boy, a slave in a mummer's touring show. But then when he was sold and his manhood was cut away, Varys gave up believing, wondering why any god would allow that to happen to a helpless boy.

He looked up at the night sky and saw the stars peaking through the clouds above. Varys thought long on what to do next. To join the Golden Company and head east to join Daenerys they would need ships, many ships. The Volantenes would not be so eager to provide these ships if they felt the Golden Company was going to support this queen who had smashed the slave trade. Slaves outnumbered free men in Volantis. Soon these freemen would strike back in Slaver's Bay, to reopen the slave trade and to show they still had strength, more so to keep their own slaves in check than to destroy the upstart queen of Slaver's Bay. And if that happened, if Daenerys and her army were overwhelmed, her young dragons killed or captured? Then all of their hopes and years of planning would depend on Prince Aegon becoming the man he was supposed to be.

Varys finally fell asleep for a short time, before he was rudely awaken by Connington to take his post on watch. He had no sooner sat on his sack of flour with his spear in hand when he closed his eyes and fell asleep again only to be awaken once more. But this time there was a sharp edge at his throat and Varys awoke with a start and fell off the flour sacks, his large rump making a thump on the hard deck, while his spear clattered beside him. He was about to scream for help when he heard a familiar voice.

"If I had been a pirate or robber you would be dead," Jon Connington said with scorn as he sheathed his sword

"My apologies," Varys replied as he scrambled up to his feet.

Connington looked him over. "This was a test, Spider. I usually take the night watch by myself. I know you are too soft and too used to a life of luxury. But I now also know you cannot be trusted with such a simple task as staying awake to guard our boat. Find something useful to do. Perhaps helping Ysilla with the food would be a more suitable task for the likes of you. We have no idle hands to feed on this boat."

"As you wish. But I must remind you that Illyrio sent me here to serve as Princ…Young Griff's advisor," Varys said.

Connington scoffed slightly. "Advisor? Don't you mean whisperer? That is what you were, master of whisperers."

"You know I was. And you were Hand of the King."

"Hand to a madman," Connington said with anger. "Go back to your flour sacks. Sleep easy for better men than you guard your person."

Varys ignored the insult. "And the matter of Young Griff?"

"As you wish. But fill his head with no lies. Tell him all you know of Westeros, of Stannis, the Lannisters, the Starks, the Tullys, all our enemies."

"The Starks are enemies of the Lannisters, the Tullys are as well," Varys told him. "Might it not be prudent if we sound out an alliance with them? I…"

"Never!" the exiled lord said harshly. "Ned Stark was Robert's right hand. When Aegon comes into his birthright the Starks will be dealt with, mark my words."

"As you wish," Varys said again in a genial manner and after a moment Connington again told him to go to sleep. Varys knew it was no use arguing with him on this point…for now. He would have to get to him through Prince Aegon.

Morning came too soon and after a breakfast of biscuits and bacon washed down with ale they set off down the river. The days went by slowly, with Varys spending most of his time with Aegon, at least when the lad was not busy with his other lessons. Varys taught him all about the west, all of the households, who was who, mixed with some history and politics. Haldon sat with them sometimes and more than once he and Varys argued over some point or another. Duck thought to teach Varys how to use a spear and sword properly but Varys only tittered and said such lessons would be wasted on him. Septa Lemore did not push him on his lack of faith but more than once he thought she looked at him in a disapproving manner.

They soon passed down the tributaries of the Upper Rhoyne, and came to where the river was much wider and running more slowly. They raised the sail when there was a wind astern, but mostly they drifted or poled the boat where the waters were shallow. They saw a few other fishing and trading boats, who warned of pirates and slave catchers and stone men. They also gave news of what was happening in Volantis. All the news was of preparations for the triarch elections and of coming war. One rumor said a large group of sellswords was coming from the Disputed Lands to join the coming venture to the east. That had to be the Golden Company.

Thankfully there were no incidents. As they traveled further south the river grew wider and foggier. The fog hid them from many dangerous eyes. As night came on they poled up a small stream or found a heavily overgrown riverbank to hide in. They rested and tied up in shallows and sometimes lashed vegetation to the boat to help hide it.

On Dagger Lake the dangers of pirates increased and so they traveled at night for some days. They encountered even heavier fogs on the lake. They sometimes saw the lanterns of boats in the distance and moved to avoid them. A few times they encountered stone men on bridges in ancient flooded cities but the stone men let them be. Varys shuddered when he heard them wailing and moaning and wondered if he would have the strength to cut off a finger or toe if the signs of greyscale began to appear on him.

After the lake was behind them they returned to daytime travel. One evening just before sunset a few days after they had passed Dagger Lake heavy rains came lashing down and Connington ordered them to the river bank where they got good and soaking wet as they secured the _Shy Maid_. They retreated to their cabins to change clothes and then came to the main upper cabin for their supper of cold, dried fish and bread. After a time all went below to bed except Aegon. Connington was letting him take turns at watch in less dangerous places. Varys' bed was on deck and he was not inclined to go out there and get wet again. Aegon offered Varys his bed but Varys politely declined. He was not very sleepy anyway and the two stood, looking out the cabin's open window ports at the rain as darkness came on.

"Soon we will be in Volantis," Aegon commented. "I have never been in large city…not since Pentos I mean."

"That was some time ago."

"Yes."

Varys sensed some regret in the boy's tone. "You understand why we raised you as we have?"

"I understand…but I did not like it." He turned to Varys. "All these years I have listened and done what I was told. I am a prince, I was told. I will be king, they said to me. When, I asked? Soon, some day, next year, when we are ready, in the future. I am sick of these words!"

"Patience is a virtue, my prince. The time is coming now, faster than you expect."

He grunted. "So you say. So says Griff. Lord Connington, I mean."

They were silent for a long moment, staring out at the pounding rain. Suddenly he turned to Varys. "Tell me about my mother. You knew her, did you not?"

Varys sighed. "Yes, but not well. She was beautiful, she loved your father with all her heart, she…"

"Why didn't he love her?" Aegon demanded.

"My prince?" Varys said, taken aback unexpectedly.

"I know," Aegon said darkly. "I have heard the story of Robert Baratheon and my father's fight on the Trident many times. When I asked when, where, and who, they always answer me. But when I ask why, their eyes shift uneasily, they stumble over their words, and then claim Robert was a rebel and a traitor who attacked my family because he lusted after power. But it's all a lie. I heard them whisper when they think I am asleep. One name I kept hearing. Stark. Lord Rickard Stark and his son Brandon, executed by my grandfather, this much they tell me is true. But not why, except they were rebels. And also the daughter's name, Lyanna Stark. Her and my father's name they whisper together. Tell me Lord Varys…tell me the truth of this. If you ever hope to serve me, then serve me now and tell me the truth."

Varys knew he must tell the truth because once they reached the Golden Company there were many men there who knew the story and it would not be long before Aegon heard it as well. "Your father loved another woman, it is true."

"Lyanna Stark?" he asked.

"Yes." And so Varys told him the whole story, everything as they stood and looked and listened to the rain. He asked many questions which Varys answered and when they were done, much time had passed and the rain was easing up.

"You must understand," Varys said when near the end of explaining it all. "Many men and women, especially lords and ladies, marry not for love. Their families make alliances, to get more power, to get more land, to have a strong ally, for many reasons. And so it was with your parents."

"I understand," Aegon answered quietly. "Robert Baratheon and my father fought for the love of the same woman. But who did she really love?"

"Your father," Varys quickly answered. "Robert and the Starks and the whole of the west believe she was kidnapped by your father. It was never so. Your father was not an evil man, would not force a woman to come to his bed. She went with him, willingly. She fell in love with him at the tournament or soon after."

"But she died during the war you said. How?"

"That is a bit of a mystery. During the war Lyanna Stark was hidden in a tower in the mountains of Dorne, with several members of the Kingsguard protecting her. All commanded by your father, of course." This Varys did not know until after the war, as Prince Rhaegar did not trust him. Of course, the missing Kingsguards knights did not go unnoticed with war looming. Mad Aerys had demanded they be recalled but Rhaegar ignored him, one of the few in the kingdom who could do so and get away with it. Over the years Varys pieced together bits and parts of the story. But even he was not certain of all of it.

He told Aegon what he knew. "After the war was near done, Ned Stark and several companions found her and slew the Kingsguards men after a fierce battle. Only two survived that day, Ned Stark and his friend Howland Reed. Lyanna Stark was already ill, of what I know not. She soon died. Ned Stark and Reed have never spoken to anyone on the subject as far as I know. She died and her brother took her body home to Winterfell after he tore down that tower to use its stones to make tombs for the men who fell with him. That is all I know."

"It is more than I knew before," the prince told him. "I thank you, Lord Varys. From now on there shall be no secrets between us."

"Of course, my prince," Varys replied, giving the same answer he had given to Aerys and Cersei and many others who had said the same thing to him over the years.

"Tell me one more thing," Aegon continued. "Who killed my mother and sister?"

Varys knew Illyrio had told the boy the truth of this, but perhaps he was testing Varys or only trying to confirm what Illyrio had told him. "Gregor Clegane killed your mother and thought he killed you as well. Amory Lorch killed your sister. All by the order of Tywin Lannister."

Aegon took a deep breath and there was anger in his eyes. "They must all die."

"Tywin Lannister is already dead, as you know. And before I left Pentos I heard that Lorch had died as well."

That surprised him. "How?"

"In a dispute with Tyrion Lannister at Harrenhal is what the whisperers say. They also say Clegane is still alive and in command of Harrenhal now."

"Someday I will kill him myself," Aegon said in anger. Varys would normally have tittered at such a bold boast, but this time he would not do so, would not hurt the boy whose mother and sister had been so cruelly taken from him.

"I hope I am there to see you slay him, my prince," Varys replied.

Aegon looked at him intently. "I am no fool, Lord Varys. Duck says Gregor Clegane is a monstrous brute who slays all who dare face him. I could never hope to slay him in single combat as much as I would like to. No secrets between us, I said."

"Yes, my prince. He would kill you, I do not doubt. But there are many ways to kill a man besides single combat."

Aegon nodded. "Then I have a task for you, your first of many to come if you wish to serve me. Send word to Illyrio. Find a way to bring me Gregor Clegane's head."

"I believe your uncles Prince Doran and Oberyn Martell desire his head just as much."

Aegon grinned. "Then between us we should find a way. The fact that this monster still lives and breathes is an affront to my mother's memory and my family's honor."

He was speaking like a true prince, Varys knew, not a scared boy in hiding anymore. But Varys knew they needed caution here. "Then it is best to let your uncles deal with this issue. If we send assassins to kill him perhaps we will tip our hand too soon."

Aegon thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, that would seem wiser."

Aegon looked out at the rain as it eased up and they talked a bit on the voyage to come. Not long after Connington awoke and told the prince to get some rest and Aegon went below. Connington looked at Varys. "The deck is wet. Go to my bunk if you wish." Varys thanked him, went below, crawled into the bunk opposite the prince's in the narrow cabin Connington shared with him.

"Lord Varys?" Aegon asked in the darkness.

"Yes, my prince?"

"Is Daenerys beautiful?"

"Indeed she is."

"She will be my wife."

"Yes, my prince."

The boy said no more and soon Varys could hear him snoring softly and after that exhaustion overtook him and for the first time in many weeks Varys slept well.

Six days later in the early morning they reached the port city of Selhorys on the east bank of the Rhoyne. They needed supplies and information and tied up at one of the city's many wharves. After paying for their wharf fees, Connington and Yandry returned to the boat. The exiled lord began to give orders.

"Young Griff and I will stay and guard the boat. Yandry and Ysilla will buy the supplies we need. Duck, help them carry what they buy and guard their person and purse. Haldon, Varys, we need information about the Golden Company and what is happening in Volantis. Think you can handle this task?" The questions was for Varys.

"It is what I do best."

"Then you had best be on your way."

Haldon and Varys climbed off the boat first and for Varys it was a joy to set foot in civilization after so many days on the river system. Varys had never been in the city before but knew it was one of the few large ones on the east bank of the Rhoyne. For here the Dothraki occasionally came raiding, and most people preferred to live on the west bank, with the wide Rhoyne between them and the horse lords.

Selhorys was one place where Illyrio had a friend who could help Varys. Illyrio told him to keep these friends a secret from the others, for Illyrio was always cautious about revealing how far his fat fingers extended into the world of commerce. Varys had committed the name of the man and his address to memory. Illyrio also had an old map of the city at his manse and Varys had studied it intently so he would not become lost in Selhorys.

"There is a place I know here which a talkative customs officer often frequents," Haldon told Varys as they walked through the crowded waterfront. The people seemed in a hurry and had a nervous cast to them. They also seemed to be carrying many personal belongings as they headed to the wharves. The place was markedly empty of the usual fishmongers and other merchants who normally clogged the waterfronts of major cities. More then one berth at the wharfs was empty and Varys could see several boats crowded with people crossing the river.

"They are leaving," Varys told him and Haldon followed his gaze across the wide river.

"Dothraki," Haldon said evenly as he took in the scene. "They are rumored to be nearby. Not a rumor anymore I fear. Come. My contact will know what is happening if he is here."

Varys knew it was time to leave him. "I have my own contacts."

Haldon looked at him in puzzlement. "Who? I know many in Selhorys."

"Who is my concern."

Haldon scowled. "Griff will not like us separating."

"He asked us to get information," Varys answered. "You have your contacts, I have mine. Two sources are better than one."

"Be it on your head then if some evil befalls you."

Varys sighed theatrically. "My dear Haldon, evil I have known, for years and years. Fear not. I will meet you back at the boat when the sun reaches its zenith."

"As you wish," Haldon answered with an edge of anger and then he walked off by himself.

Varys turned and got his bearings and soon entered a poor district near the wharves, which he had to pass through to get to a better neighborhood where he knew the merchant he was to contact lived. It was a hot day and a stench of fish, shit, and piss filled the air. He wore a plain light brown linen shirt and woolen breeches, with the rough leather boots of a common worker. A sheen of light sweat was on his forehead. Varys was trying not to walk too fast to prevent sweating more.

As he walked, he attracted some looks. He was not in disguise, as he might have normally been in such a place. He knew his bald head and plump cheeks marked him as a eunuch, who were mainly slaves in the east. Despite being a slave as a boy, Varys had never been branded with a slaver's tattoo. On the streets of Selhorys he saw many people so marked, often carrying or pushing heavy loads behind their masters as they walked with hurried steps towards the waterfront. The rich are leaving. Varys wondered if their slaves would go with them. Perhaps, as they were valuable property.

"Lord Varys," said a voice behind him suddenly as he walked down a filthy narrow street filled with pot shops, wine sinks, and inns. Then a firm hand was clasped on his right shoulder. Varys stopped and sighed and cursed his stupidity for not wearing at least a wig and a hat. He wondered which of his enemies on this side of the Narrow Sea recognized him. At least he didn't stab him in the back, a good sign, for the moment. Varys knew what he had to do. He slid his right hand up his left sleeve and grasped the hidden dagger's hilt, while at the same time he put on his most obsequious manner, turned and was about to bow his head and say 'you are mistaken'. But when he saw who it was that had accosted him his voice caught in his throat.

"Not expecting me, were you?" said Ser Jorah Mormont. The heavily muscled, bearded knight looked like the bear his people took as their sigil. He was dressed in a woolen surcoat and Varys could see the chain mail underneath, both of which made Mormont sweat profusely in the vile heat.

"I heard you were farther east," Varys replied, quickly recovering from his surprise.

Mormont's bearded face clouded over for a second but then he scowled. He took his hand away from Varys' shoulder and brought it to his sword hilt.

"There is no need for that, I assure you, good ser," Varys said hurriedly with a nod to the sword, as he released his right hand from the dagger and let both of his hands fall by his sides to show he had no weapons.

"Not yet," answered Mormont with another scowl. "We need have words."

Varys nodded. "As you wish. My business can wait. But know this. I travel with others and if I am…delayed…they will come looking."

"Fear not, Lord Varys," Mormont said. "I seek answers, nothing else. Your blood will only spill if you try to prick me with the dagger you have up your sleeve or try to flee."

Varys grinned slightly, wondering what else the exiled knight knew about him. "Then by all means. Talking is thirsty work. Perhaps some wine or…"

"Ale," Mormont said roughly. "In here."

Ser Jorah nodded to a nearby door and Varys entered. It was a small dingy place with few customers at this time of the morning. They took a table in a corner and Mormont sat where he could view the door, the proprietor, and the other customers. They got pewter cups of ale and after one sip Varys vowed to never touch the vile stuff again. Mormont quaffed it, made a face and then looked at Varys.

"What news from Westeros?"

"Your father is dead," Varys said to begin and he opened with that because he knew that would disarm Mormont and turn things to Varys' advantage.

Mormont's eyes widened slightly and then his face took on a grim cast and then he glared at Varys. "If you lie…"

"It is no lie," Varys replied swiftly. "I did not know my own father but I know how much one's father means to most. I would not lie about such a thing, even to my vilest enemies."

Mormont said nothing but took a drink, draining his cup. When it was empty he slammed it on the table, ordered another and when it came he drank again, finishing half the cup in one go. Finally he looked at Varys and it seemed there was a sheen of moisture on his eyes. "How?"

"Murdered by his own men, north of the Wall, during a retreat from the Fist of the First Men."

"Murdered! By who? Why?" Ser Jorah demanded in anger.

"I know not many details," Varys answered calmly. "The day before I left Pentos a ship came in from Braavos. It had paid a visit to Eastwatch to trade. The captain spoke with some men of the Night's Watch. They told him Ned Stark has called his banners to go to the aid of the Wall. The sailor said the wildlings are attacking Castle Black."

"Have they taken it?" Mormont asked eagerly.

"Not at that time. But prior to that your father led the Watch out to the Fist of the First Men, hoping to catch the wildings by surprise as they marched to the Wall. They were attacked there…by the Others."

"The Others?" Ser Jorah repeated in shock.

"So said the captain," Varys replied. "So said the men of Eastwatch. Your father's men were overwhelmed. He led the survivors in a retreat. Somewhere in the forest at a place called Crastor's Keep he was killed by his own men. Why and by whom…I know not. That is all I have learned."

"Gods," Mormont said quietly as he drank deeply again. For a long time they were silent. Then Mormont spoke, his head hung low, his eyes unable to meet Varys'. "I shamed him and my family name."

"I know."

"Ned Stark," Mormont said with a low growl. "He exiled me."

"For good reason."

The exiled knight raised his head and a flash of anger came to Mormont's eyes for a moment and then it was gone. "Aye," he said in resignation. "Did they at least recover his body? Give him a proper funeral?"

"I know not."

"His sister…my aunt…I suppose she knows by now."

"Again, I know not," Varys said. He could see Mormont was thinking on Bear Island and his family and folk so far away.

"The Others," Mormont finally said with a shake of his head. "A name used to curse your enemies. Legends, myths from another age."

"Mayhaps," Varys replied. "But the men of Eastwatch were nervous, the ship's captain told me, and feared the rumors were true."

"If true, then they will attack the Wall, the wildings, the whole of the North if they get through!" Ser Jorah said in anger. "My people are there!"

"Yes," said Varys. "But on an island in the Bay of Ice."

"Aye…but there are boats on that shore and they don't call it the Bay of Ice for nothing. Who knows what the winter will bring, what cold will come? I have seen that sea half frozen and filled with ice floes from the glaciers of the northern lands. They can cross the ice with ease."

"Winter is not here yet."

"Aye, but it will come, as the Starks always say. Tell me the rest, all of it. King's Landing, the Lannisters, everything."

"Tywin Lannister is dead."

"This is old news," Mormont said as he took a drink of ale and made a face.

"Stannis is in King's Landing and is declaring himself King."

"Old news as well," Mormont told him. "And I know he burnt half the city in taking it."

"An accident, not his intention," Varys said and for a few moments they spoke on the Battle of King's Landing, including Joffrey's death.

"But Robert's second son now claims the Iron Throne as well as Stannis Baratheon," said Mormont.

Varys tittered slightly. "He is no son of Robert Baratheon."

"Aye, I have heard the rumors. Are they true?"

"It seems Queen Cersei and Ser Jamie were more than brother and sister. All of Robert's children are really Jaime's."

"Gods," exclaimed Mormont. "Such vileness. The Lannisters are cursed in the eyes of gods and men."

"But still powerful and rich. They will fight to the bitter end to maintain Tommen's claim."

Now a gleam of light came into Ser Jorah's eyes. "But one can sit the Iron Throne. The true heir. A Targaryen princess. The blood of King Aerys, his daughter."

"Daenerys," Varys said in a bare whisper. Now they came to the heart of the matter. "She still lives?"

For a second Mormont seemed uncertain, his eyes casting about. "She was alive…when I saw her last, a moon's turn ago." He seemed about to say more but stopped.

"Tell me it all," Varys said and before he knew it the tables were turned and Ser Jorah was doing the talking, telling Varys everything that happened to them on the journey to the Dothraki homelands, how Khal Drogo killed Viserys, how Daenerys was almost killed and…

Suddenly Mormont scowled and glared at Varys. "You sent assassins!"

Varys looked at him in wonder. "At King Robert's command based on reports _you _sent me."

"Aye," said Mormont more quietly. "I was a fool. I could not see what she would become until it was too late to undo the reports I sent you."

"I wrote letters to you, telling you of the assassin's plan, of a plot to use poisoned wine to kill her," Varys said. "Did you get these letters?"

"Aye, just in time to stop the killer. Khal Drogo made sure he died in a terrible way. I saved her life from the killers I helped set on her." He sounded full of regret.

"You wanted to go home," Varys said in a more gentle tone. "I tried to persuade Robert to pardon you. He seemed inclined but Ned Stark would not hear of it."

Mormont grunted. "Stark has no love for me. He is too honorable, that one."

"True, so honorable he argued fiercely with Robert over the issue of sending assassins after Daenerys and her unborn child. Resigned as Hand of the King when Robert ordered the assassination against his advice."

That surprised Mormont. "Truly?" Then he snorted. "So he failed to stop his beloved Robert's lust for Targaryen blood. At least I stopped the assassin."

"Then our cause is not lost if she still lives," Varys said, deciding it was time to find where this exiled knight's true loyalties lay.

"Cause?" Mormont asked in puzzlement. "I know only one cause you have, Spider. To find out the secrets of the world and use them to you own ends. Why are you in the east?"

"I seek Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons. They are real, are they not?"

"Aye," Mormont told him and then described what happened when the dragons were hatched. "I did not believe my eyes were seeing true when I saw her climb out of Khal Drogo's funeral pyre with her clothes and hair burned off and three dragons crawling over her unmarked flesh."

"It seems there is some new magic in the air," Varys commented. "The Others walk and dragons will soon fly again."

"They can already fly," the big knight stated. For a long moment Mormont stared at him as if trying to decide something. "Why do you seek her?" he finally asked.

"To help her return to Westeros and take what is rightfully hers." Not exactly true, but true for the most part. He preferred if Aegon took the throne, as he was the rightful heir, but they needed his aunt's dragons to achieve victory.

"Again I ask why?" Mormont said with fury in his voice. "What is in it for you? You served Robert and then his sons after King Aerys was coldly murdered by the Kingslayer. What stake do you have in a Targaryen restoration?"

"I served because serving was preferable to my head on a spike," Varys replied calmly. "But I also serve a higher seat, and always have, just like your father did with the men of the Night's Watch. I serve the realm."

Mormont scoffed. "Such lies you tell. You serve yourself. What schemes are you brewing now in that bald head of yours ?"

Varys sighed in a rather theatrical manner. "No one loves the Spider and believes his words even less."

"With good reason people say words are wind, more so from you. I will not help you find Daenerys."

"I know where she is. I have come down the Rhoyne by way of Pentos but even there the word has come of her doings in the east in Slaver's Bay."

"Then stop this mummer's farce and tell me what you intend to do!"

"I had hoped to travel to Meereen and meet Daenerys, to offer my advice and wisdom and knowledge of Westeros to her cause."

"You travel to Meereen?" Mormont asked, a bit too eagerly. "How? When?"

"Plans that are not yet laid. I will soon travel to Volantis, to seek a ship and a good captain heading east."

Mormont grunted. "Mayhaps you will find one. But you had best hurry. The triarchs will soon be sending many ships to Meereen. War galleys for the most part, filled with archers and men at arms and siege engines. The whole of the east is going after her, to destroy her because she destroyed their slave trade and has given hope to the tattooed multitudes in chains here and elsewhere."

"She had best start west as soon as possible then," Varys said with worry. "My friends are in contact with the Golden Company. If need be we can march east, perhaps meet her and support her."

"The Golden Company? Aye, I have heard they are south of here, 10,000 of them. What coin do you have to pay so many sellswords?"

"Coin I have, do not worry. Support I have. Friends I have. You, Ser Jorah, may have come late to the princess' side, but I have supported her since the day she was born."

Mormont glared again. "Stop with your lies."

"You were at her wedding. You know who supports her, kept her safe for many years."

Mormont's eyes narrowed. "Illyrio Mopatis?"

Varys nodded. "He and I are old friends. His plan was to have Khal Drogo give Viserys a Dothraki horde to invade the west but it seems Viserys' stupidity cost him his life. Now we must see that his sister takes his place."

"You…you truly seek to put a Targaryen on the Iron Throne?" Mormont said in suspicion.

"I do," Varys answered. "I think my letters warning of her assassins is proof enough of my true intentions. On the one hand I had to please Robert, but at the same time I had to make sure Viserys and Daenerys were safe."

"I will come with you to Meereen," Mormont said quickly and then he finished his ale in one gulp. "Gods, that is vile stuff."

Varys couldn't deny it as his own cup remained full. "We certainly could use a man like you," Varys said. "Your sword and your knowledge of what has happened in Slaver's Bay. We could pay well…"

Mormont quickly reached across the table and grabbed Varys right arm roughly and glared at him with an intensity that made Varys very nervous. "I will take no more of your coin, Spider!" he spat in a low growl. "If I help you I do it for her, not for you, or your money, for her!"

And then Varys knew. He loved her. He wanted her. She was his wife reborn, the wife he had lost because he was just an heir to a barren frozen island in a sea of ice while she was a lady of the south with expensive tastes and needs. It was why he was in exile, why he could not return home, banished by Ned Stark for selling some poachers into slavery to raise money for his wife's demands. He lost his soul to a pretty face before and now it was happening again.

"For her," Varys said calmly. "We all do it for her."

Mormont let go of his arm and silently stared at Varys as if trying to make up his mind, which he finally did. "We need a ship. I know how to get one in Volantis."

Varys nodded slightly. "Very well. I must return to my companions and let them know you have joined us."

"Who are these companions?" Mormont asked, suspicion clear in his tone again.

"You will meet them soon enough."

"If you are trying to lay a trap for me Spider, know this. Your blood will be the first I spill."

"I would expect nothing less. Now I have one more question. Why did the princess send you away from her side?" Varys instinctively knew it had to have happened that way or he would still be with her.

His eyes gleamed in anger again. "It was Selmy. Barristan Selmy. He appeared in Qarth disguised as a squire for a fat pit fighter named Strong Belwas. They claimed to have come from Illyrio with three ships, seeking to help the princess. The ships were real enough. Fool I was I did not see who he really was until he saved Daenerys from an assassin. He is her shadow now, as I once was. He told her about my dealings with you. She dismissed me from her service after that."

"You think she will welcome you back?"

He shook his head. "No. But know this. Selmy told her all about you, and how you gave many reports over the years to Robert on her and her brother's whereabouts. I told her of your letter to warn of the assassin but she cared not, her anger was so great. Perhaps she will welcome you or she may feed you to her dragons. I know not."

Not a death Varys or any man would care for. "A chance I must take," Varys replied. He had letters from Illyrio explaining all about his role in their venture but would she believe them? "Perhaps my value as an informer to her will outweigh any need for vengeance. And what will you do for the princess?"

"I will serve her somehow, with my sword as I did in the past, in one of the free companies she has in her service if need be."

"I am sure she will not begrudge you the chance to die for her," Varys said as he rose from the table. "Come, my friend. We have much to do if we are to reach Meereen before the tide of war washes over our princess once more."


	4. Chapter 4 Cersei

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 4 – Cersei **

Cersei Lannister knelt in prayer at the foot of her father's sarcophagus deep within Casterly Rock. In the long, vaulted torch lit hall two rows of stone sarcophagi were placed across from each other, the final resting place of generations of Lannisters, men for the most part, with just a few women. Kings of the West the oldest ones were, then after the Targaryen conquest those who became Wardens of the West and Lords of Casterly Rock. The odd one or two were famed heroes who had died in battle, or had been great advisers for the Lannister family.

But of all her deceased family members only one was ever king of all of Westeros, her son Joffrey. Yet he was not here where he belonged. His body was never recovered. He died in a fall from the Red Keep during the Battle of King's Landing and was burned by his enemies. Baratheon he was called but his blood was all Lannister, as most of the realm now knew.

Cersei's heart ached when she thought on how her boy must have been terrified, falling from the battlements from so great a height. Such a terrible way for her first born to die. But she knew there were more horrible ways, and knew it was a mercy he was dead when they had burned him. Cersei had heard reports of how Stannis was burning prisoners alive to please his god and the terrible woman who was by his side. Cersei knew it was the red whore who had ordered her son's body burned. She swore to the Seven that she would have her revenge and see the red woman burned alive herself.

As she thought on Joffrey she recalled what her daughter and Sandor Clegane had told her about his activities in Winterfell. At first she thought they had lied, that Tyrion was making it all up, to hurt her and turn the blame away from himself. But no, she now knew in her heart Joffrey had done it. She just didn't know why and that vexed her to no end. Why would he want to kill the Stark boy? Did he think the boy had insulted him in some way? Did he think it was a mercy to have him killed? She recalled Robert saying just that at breakfast one morning before they left Winterfell. But even if he had heard Robert say that, what would possess Joffrey to take such action? Did he think to please the man he believed to be his father by having a crippled boy killed?

Even worse were the results of Joffrey's actions. Tyrion kidnapped, war breaking out, Jaime getting captured, and on and on, like ripples of water spreading from where a stone was thrown in a pond. Joffrey had tossed that first stone, or maybe Jaime did when he pushed Bran Stark from that window. Or perhaps it was Jon Arryn's death. It mattered not now. The end result was her father and son were dead and there was naught that she could do to undo the events that led to their deaths. Despite all his cruelty and failures as a King, she felt Joffrey still should be here with these other great men, besides his grandfather, the greatest of them all.

Cersei got off her knees, stood and touched her father's sarcophagus. Killed by sorcery, her brothers would have her believe, to cover up their own mistakes in letting an assassin get close enough to cut his throat in the midst of his army. From Tywin Lannister's death came all the rest of their woes during the war, the failure to defend the capital, Joffrey's death, the collapse of the counter-attacks, the Iron Fleet's attack, and the retreat from King's Landing.

If her father had lived none of it would have happened, Cersei knew in her heart. Her father would have never given up the capital as easily as his brother and son did. He never would have let them retreat from wildfire. They would have been so afraid of his wrath they would have walked into hell to win his victory. They feared him, his men and his enemies, and that fear was worth whole armies. The ironmen would never have had the stomach to attack Lannisport if Tywin Lannister still lived. But with his death the crows and rats came out of hiding and began to pick at the carcass.

Or if Robert had lived, for that matter, she thought. Robert had been a pig and a drunkard but he was also a man of action and of war. He would have put them all in their place as he had done in the past. Cersei did not regret the death of her husband, in which she had played so large a role. She had withstood his drinking and whoring for fourteen years, far too long. Then when Jon Arryn and after him Ned Stark began to pry into affairs, she knew Robert had to die, before he learned the truth of who the real father of her children was and he slew them all. His death was a relief to her, more so as the realm believed it an accident. But as the war began and things spiraled out of control, she began to wonder how Robert would have handled it all. Perhaps her father and son would still be alive if she had only killed those who knew the truth of her incest with her brother rather than killing Robert.

Yet that was also foolish to think on. Besides Jon Arryn, there was Ned Stark and Stannis, and she was sure by the time Robert died that Renly and many others knew the truth as well. She could never have hoped to kill them all without the truth coming out. Someone had killed Jon Arryn, of that she did not doubt. Poison, it was. He had died in great pain, but swiftly. Varys never discovered who poisoned him, so he claimed. Nor did Ned Stark. Robert and Stark had loved Jon Arryn like a father. She was sure Stark believed she and Jaime had killed him to hide their crime. But they were innocent of Jon Arryn's death. His assassin had escaped justice.

"Cersei," said a quiet voice suddenly, dragging her out of her thoughts. She turned swiftly. In the glow of the flickering torchlight she saw her brother Tyrion, the Imp, now Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King. He stood nearby the tomb of their grandfather. She had not heard him enter the crypt hall. For once he was alone, without his shadow Bronn trailing after him.

"What do you want?" she demanded. Even after all these years she still could not treat him with anything but contempt. He had connived to get her back on the small council but she still felt he had done that for his own purposes. Just what they were she could not yet understand. She knew it was not to win her favor, because he knew he could never gain that.

"Myrcella said you might be here," Tyrion said to her. "We have matters to discuss. A council meeting."

She had forgotten. "Very well. I was just paying my respects to my father."

"He was mine as well."

She snorted in derision. "How often do you pray for his soul?"

Tyrion shrugged. "You know I am not a pious man."

She laughed harshly and it echoed in the vaulted chamber. "No, I suppose the gods hold no appeal for you since they did such a poor job in making you."

Tyrion grinned, a false grin she knew. "Dear sister, I think we are a bit too old to be using such trivial taunts to hurt each other anymore."

"I was only stating what is true," Cersei answered him. Tyrion raised his thick eyebrows a moment, said nothing and turned to leave, but she stopped him. "Tyrion, I need a word now that we have a moment alone."

He turned back and cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"The matter of Jaime," she said, trying to keep her voice even, a lid on her emotions. Jaime rarely talked to her these days, still angry from discovering she had bedded their cousin Lancel. Where once he was her ally in all things, now he seemed an implacable foe, opposing her at council meetings and treating her coldly at every turn. The worst of all was he was trying to take Tommen away from her, trying to turn him into a king he said, but she knew he was trying to replace her in Tommen's eyes.

Tyrion shrugged again. "I told you it might take time. You have hurt him, more than you know. He still loves you, the fool. More so than you love him, he believes."

Cersei felt a sense of loss as Tyrion spoke on Jaime's love. She did love him, more than he knew. Could he not see she needed Lancel to help her kill Robert? She was about to say this to Tyrion but held her tongue on this matter. She was still not sure if Tyrion knew who she had slept with. "You promised to help me win Jaime back to my side," she reminded her brother.

"Yes, or you will tear me down from my lofty posts. That was the threat, was it not?"

"You know it was," she retorted.

"I have done as you have asked," he said in a calm tone. "I have spoken to Jaime. He loves you but is still angry. He says he cannot trust you. Go to him, get on your knees if you must, and beg his forgiveness."

She knew he was right. "I would but he will not see me."

"I will arrange it."

"If he refuses to accept me back…"

Tyrion scowled, no longer calm. "Stop with the threats! Sister, we have neither the time nor energy for this rancor between us. We are at war, a war you and Jaime helped start, need I remind you. We…"

She sharply interrupted him. "You helped start it as well by falling into Catelyn Stark's hands! Father would never have had to call his banners if you hadn't been so careless."

Tyrion looked at her in amazement. "You and Jaime must take a large share of the blame for that as well. Catelyn Stark did not just kidnap me because she was bored! You and my dear brother just couldn't keep your hands off each other in Winterfell, could you?"

"Jaime pushed the Stark boy, not me!"

Tyrion laughed and it made her even angrier. "That won't matter when Stannis puts all our heads on spikes," he said. "I suppose if he gives us a trial first, as Catelyn Stark wishes, you and Jaime can take turns blaming each other for the boy's fall."

"Stannis still sits in his ruined city," Cersei replied with confidence while trying to control her anger. "He is waiting for the winter snows to come and go before he moves. That is what he will do. You said so yourself."

"I said he could possibly attack before the snows came," Tyrion reminded her. Then his face turned grim. "It seems I was right.

"Stannis is on the move?" she asked and he nodded. "When? Where?" Surely not here, she hoped.

"To Harrenhal it seems," Tyrion answered. "We have had a raven. Clegane's scouts report a large body of men with the fiery heart and stag banner marching up the Kingsroad. How many it didn't say. Whether Stannis was with them or not, it didn't say. When they left King's Landing, I know not. But they are more than likely at Harrenhal by now."

"Gods," Cersei said under her breath. "They have so few men there. It will fall."

"Maybe," her brother answered, a hint of worry in his tone. "But its walls are high and thick and Clegane will fight to the last man. My only worry is their lack of food. Come. Our council awaits. We have much to discuss and decide."

"Tyrion…I…I am…" She tried to apologize for her earlier anger but the words would not come and he knew it. He was truly trying to help her win back Jaime and she was grateful. But saying sorry to anyone was something Cersei had never mastered, for it galled her to no end to apologize when she felt she had done no wrong. His very existence angered her, and for that she could not be blamed.

He sighed lightly. "Never mind all that. I know there is no love between us, have known for years. You despise me for mother's death, as we have both known for years as well. But as I said to you before, don't let that get in the way of what must be done. Come."

Cersei made no reply, knowing he was right but still unable to see him as anything but the foul thing that took her mother away from her all those years ago. She knew in her heart she could never forgive him.

She followed him out of the crypt. Bronn was waiting near the entrance with her own two guards and together they went up and up, her guards in front, Bronn behind, climbing the many stairs that led from the dark lower bowels of the Rock to the more airy upper levels. Tyrion was gasping for breath as they neared the top, his short, twisted legs not well-suited for the climb.

"Shall I carry you?" Bronn asked, half in jest, she could tell by his tone.

"Would you?" Tyrion asked as he paused for rest.

"No," Bronn answered and Tyrion even chuckled at his insolence.

Cersei was still not used to the way the dark-haired sellsword spoke to her brother. She knew Tyrion cared not, but it still rankled her to no end. Others, noble lords and ladies, had commented on it as well, on how the sellsword and her brother, the Lord of Casterly Rock, the Hand of the King, how they got on like equals. Bronn had the run of the castle, serving as Tyrion's personal captain of guards. So far he had not done anything suspicious or to bring infamy on his name, but she did not doubt he coveted their riches and had bedded more than one serving girl. He was soon to be a lord as well, once they found suitable lands for him. Bronn of the Five Towers he was to be called, she overheard Tyrion's squire Podrick say. Once he was raised to a lordship, Bronn would have to bend the knee and pay proper respects or he would be striped of his titles and lands and maybe even his head. Cersei also knew if she ever had to remove Tyrion from power his sellsword would have to go first.

She ignored her brother and his pet as they rested and she continued to climb with her guards huffing after her. It was mid-afternoon now and she had missed her accustomed light midday meal but that would have to wait. Soon she entered the small council room and left her guards outside. Already there were her Uncle Kevan, her Uncle Emmon, and Admiral Lefford. They rose as she sat, dipped their heads, and called her "Your Grace".

Cersei knew it was a courtesy they gave her because her husband had once been a king, not because she was a queen any longer. Her fall from power had been at the hands of these men and her brother. She still felt the sting of that humiliation, the day her son told her she was not welcome on the council anymore. A boy of almost nine, shouting at her! But she knew it wasn't Tommen's doing. It was these men and Jaime. Now she was back on the council but they often treated her as if she was not there. She was still Queen Regent, an empty title now, her only real safeguard the fact that she was a Lannister and the mother of the current King.

Her uncle Emmon was a Frey by birth, married to her father's only sister. He was once Hand of the King for a few brief weeks until the ironmen had humiliated them all. Her father was always hard with those who failed him in any way and Cersei tried to emulate him. She had Emmon Frey clapped in irons and had almost hung him by his scrawny neck for his failings, but knew her Aunt Genna would take that that badly, despite her obvious distaste for her husband. There was even a rumor that she made him wear horns, and that their four sons were hers but not his. But Cersei could never throw that in her face as she was guilty of such a crime herself, as most of the realm now believed. Emmon was master of coin now, a position where she hoped he could do no harm.

Lefford she hardly knew but he was her enemy as well, for she had his two colleagues and friends executed after the Iron Fleet had destroyed the Lannister fleet at anchor. Lefford had almost followed his two fellow admirals to the gallows but Genna had wisely told her that if she hung them all there would be no one left to rebuild the fleet.

Finally, there was her Uncle Kevan. Her father's younger brother and shadow for so many years, he was now in the spotlight and seemed reluctant to bask in it. He had never aspired to power or glory, always willing to be her father's right hand, to dote on his little wife and children, and enjoy the peace her father's prowess brought them all. Cersei and he had been on cold terms since she had rebuked him back in King's Landing. He gave her his condolences when Joffrey died, but that was mere formality as far as she was concerned. Even her handmaidens had expressed such sentiments.

In war Ser Kevan was useful for some things but he was no commander of armies, Cersei felt, especially after his retreat from King's Landing. Jaime wanted to blame her for that as well for he rightly knew it was she who had sent the plea for them to return, not Tommen. But if they had any backbone at all they would have finished off Stannis first before coming home. That's what her father would have done. She also wondered how much Kevan knew about her and Jaime. No doubt he knew the rumors but did he know the truth of the matter?

Tyrion soon entered and sat in the Hand's chair to the right of the King's. He poured himself some wine from a decanter and then looked about. "Where are the King and Ser Jaime?"

"Here," said a voice, and then Cersei's golden haired brother and son came in and soon sat at the table. They were both wearing light chain mail under surcoats, Jaime with his sword at his side as usual, and they were both sweaty and grimy. Tommen seemed to almost glow, his cheeks red, his fine curly locks framing his sweaty face. For the first time she noticed that the plumpness was leaving his features. His jaw line was growing stronger and his green eyes looked brighter. He also seemed a bit taller. She had argued fiercely against his military training, more for fear of Tommen's safety than anything else. But perhaps Jaime had been right to take him away from his kittens and his mother's skirts, to start turning him into the man and king he needed to be.

"We were sparring, Mother," Tommen said with excitement as he sat down.

She beamed at him. "Very good, Your Grace." She turned to Jaime. "How is he doing?"

He looked at her and for a moment she thought he would not answer but he grinned in his devilish way. "He is not my equal yet but who really is? But he will make a fine swordsman someday."

"The best," Tommen boasted as Tyrion poured some water for him and handed him the cup.

"Being a good swordsman is fine, Your Grace," Tyrion told him. "But there are other aspects to being a good king. How go your lessons with the maesters?"

Tommen made a face. "I don't like studying."

"You must learn, my King," Cersei told him strongly. "Languages, sums, history, religion, all that you can. A wise king must have the knowledge of the world."

Tommen pouted a bit but only replied, "Yes, Mother." Cersei felt that was a good step in winning back her son's favor, even if it was getting him to do something he disliked. At least he was listening to her.

Tyrion looked to Tommen. "May we begin, Your Grace?'

"Yes, Uncle."

Tyrion cleared his throat and then sipped some red wine from a glass before speaking. "By now I am sure you all heard that we have had dire news. Stannis Baratheon marches on Harrenhal."

"In what strength?" Ser Kevan asked.

"Uncertain," Tyrion replied. "But they may be soon under siege if not already."

"He doesn't need his whole army," Jamie observed. "He could send ten thousand to lay siege to Harrenhal and still have enough men to protect King's Landing. Stannis may not even be with them."

"Perhaps we should send twenty thousand men to raise the siege of Harrenhal," Admiral Lefford suggested.

"Possibly," Tyrion answered. "But we need to wait for more reports. We don't even know if they are under siege yet or not. We can at least send some reinforcements. I left five hundred men at the Golden Tooth."

Cersei spoke up for the first time. "And who shall protect the Golden Tooth if those men fall with Ser Gregor's? The Tooth protects the eastern gates to our lands."

"You would have us abandon Harrenhal, Your Grace?" Emmon asked with concern in his tone. She knew why he was concerned. Harrenhal was close to his home seat at the Twins. Emmon may have spent the best part of his life at Casterly Rock, but he was a Frey to the bone, and his wretched father still lived and no doubt had some influence on him.

"It is just a pile of stones worth nothing," she replied. Though they did not voice their thoughts, Cersei could feel their contempt for her, a woman speaking on matters of military strategy.

"Ruined and cursed stones at that," Ser Kevan added. "But it occupies a strategic local. It may be unwise to abandon it so easily." That was a rebuke to Cersei, though he did not look directly at her,

"It may come to that," Tyrion said. "Harrenhal offers us nothing but a place for our men to die in. It's main strategic purpose was to distract Stannis, to delay him from striking west before the snows fall. I think it has served that purpose already. Already we are hearing of snows north of the Neck."

"Yes," said Jaime. "Harrenhal has already served its purpose if it divided and distracted Stannis. We should order Ser Gregor and his men to fall back on the Golden Tooth. We shall need them in the battles ahead."

Kevan spoke up again. "If Ser Gregor abandons Harrenhal then he must poison its wells, wreck its halls, and put whatever can be burned to the torch as well. We will not give Stannis' men a dry roof over their heads so close to our borders."

"Agreed," Tyrion replied. He looked at Tommen, who had remained quiet as he listened intently to them speaking. "Your Grace. We suggest ordering Ser Gregor to fall back from Harrenhal on the Golden Tooth and for him to burn what remains of Harrenhal."

"As you say, Uncle," Tommen replied, tying to look as serious as those around him.

Tyrion looked to Ser Kevan. "Uncle, would you be so kind and please send the ravens right away with those orders under the King's seal. Also I think we should send some riders as well in case the birds are lost."

"Right away," Ser Kevan said as he rose, bowed slightly to Tommen and then left the room.

The rest of the meeting was taken up by reports. Lefford now had fifteen merchant ships being converted to war galleys and galleons. Three new large warships were being built as they spoke. Patrol boats, really small fishing vessels, were positioned to the south, north and west of Lannisport, with other boats closer to shore, all with a signal system in place if the Iron Fleet was sighted. So far, they had heard nothing of the fleet since it had attacked the Reach in the south over two weeks earlier. That didn't mean it wasn't still out there, so they had to be vigilant.

Next Tyrion reported on his plan to raise new levies by reinstating the Targaryen warrior religious orders. "Already near one thousand men have joined us," he reported.

"Men we have to feed and pay," Cersei said with a shake of her head. She had thought it a good idea at first but she had seen some of these so called warriors when she and King Tommen had inspected the army a few days past. Some were half starved smallfolk looking for a meal and had never carried a spear in their lives. She was sure they would run at the first sound of battle. Others were knights, but a poor lot they were, some without horses, many with battered arms and armor, all hedge knights. Now they were getting good Lannister steel and ring mail and shields and new horses.

"We don't pay them," Tyrion was saying "They are a religious order and do it for their love of the gods."

"Do you really believe that?" Cersei asked, the skepticism clear in her tone.

Tyrion shrugged. "Then they joined because they believe Stannis will force them to accept his god."

"Some joined for that, not all," Jaime said. "Some just want a meal. There are few warriors among them."

"Then we must make them warriors," Tyrion told them. "They need a leader. I am open to suggestions."

They talked about some noble knights and this lord or that lord, but could not reach a decision.

"It should be someone who joins the orders," Jaime suggested. "Someone with connections to a noble house but who also has battle experience."

"I think we will leave this task to you, Ser Jaime, to find someone suitable," Tyrion said and when Jaime agreed the matter was settled for the time being. Tyrion next turned to Emmon. "How fair our finances?'

He had his ledger books with him and now opened them and went on in a boring tone about taxes and incomes and gold mining and Cersei's mind just shut itself off. Emmon and Tyrion went on in this way for some time. She looked at Jaime and Tommen and Lefford and they seemed as bored as well. Cersei felt a pang of hunger and remembered she had not eaten since breakfast.

Tyrion looked grim when Emmon finished. "It seems we are poorer than I thought."

That snapped Cersei back from her daydreaming. "Poor? Don't talk rot. We are the Lannisters of Casterly Rock, the richest family in all of Westeros."

Tyrion made a grimace. "Perhaps so, but our wealth is not inexhaustible and fighting a war is costly. Our coffers grow poorer each day, the crown's as well."

Emmon cleared his throat. "They may grow poorer yet, my lord."

Tyrion eyed him. "Yes, I have heard we have had a visitor from across the Narrow Sea. Our creditors have come calling?"

"Yes, my lord," Emmon said. "There was a man at the gates today requesting an audience with the King. Claims he comes from Braavos and represents the Iron Bank. The captain of the guards sent him to see me."

Cersei seethed. Money lenders looking for their due. "What does he want?"

"Our money, no doubt," Jaime quipped.

"He can't have it," Tommen said and Jaime smiled and laughed and Emmon grinned and Cersei beamed at her son.

"Then he shall not get a single copper," she said to him.

"Good," Tommen replied, grinning also and then he looked at Tyrion and his grin fell.

"It may not be as simple as that, Your Grace," Tyrion began, his face and tone serious. "Your father borrowed heavily from the Iron Bank and your brother had little time to repay it before the war began." He looked to Emmon. "How much does the crown owe the Iron Bank?"

"He would not say and…frankly, my lord, I know not," Emmon said, embarrassed at his failings. "Lord Baelish has all of the figures and books in King's Landing."

"Baelish," Cersei said with anger. "I should have had his head off when we had the chance."

Tyrion grunted and gave her an insincere grin. "I seem to recall requesting his head off at one point. Or his neck stretched at the very least."

Cersei glared at him. "You think it is my fault?"

He sighed. "No, not at all. It matters not. He is there and we are here. Now for the matter at hand. I suppose we must grant this banker an audience."

He looked at Tommen. "If you think so, Uncle."

"I do," Tyrion answered his King. "Your mother and I can take care of this matter during normal court business on the morrow. You need not be present, Your Grace."

"Good. Court is boring," Tommen said and Cersei couldn't agree more. Sitting for hours and listening to petty lords and smallfolk petitioners and their petty problems drove her mad. She had hated doing it in King's Landing, Robert even more so, and he only came to court for matters of importance or when a person of high rank was visiting. Jon Arryn had taken care of much of the court business during Robert's reign.

"Then we are done, for now," Tyrion said. "I…"

But Tommen interrupted him. "When are my companions coming, Uncle?"

That had actually been a good idea of Tyrion's, to have all the lords send a son or daughter to the Rock to be fostered as friends of Tommen. Companions, Tyrion called them. But hostages to their families' loyalty they would be.

"We have had some ravens, Your Grace," Tyrion replied. "In a few days or weeks we shall have the Rock filled with boys and girls your own age."

"Girls?" the King said with obvious displeasure. "I don't want any girls."

"You don't have to play with them," Cersei told him.

"Good," Tommen replied. "They can play silly girl's games with Myrcella. The boys and I will play and fight and have fun."

She smiled at him and then Tommen stood and thanked them for their service as he had been taught to do. They all rose and bowed to him and then Jaime and Tommen started from the room. Cersei wanted to speak to her brother, to ask to see him later, but would not do so in front of the others.

Her chance came later than evening. She and Myrcella and several young girls and ladies of the court, including her dead Uncle Gerion's bastard daughter Joy Hill, were just finishing their evening meal in Cersei's apartments when the Hound entered the room.

"Lord Tyrion's squire asks to speak with you, Your Grace," the Hound announced. Some of the girls were looking at him in fascination and more than one grimaced at the sight of his face. Clegane took no notice or if he did perhaps he was used to pretty girls' horrified looks at his disfigurement.

She was about to say no, tell him to go away, wondering why Podrick Payne would want to see her and then she thought it must be about Jaime or Tyrion never would have sent him. "Very well, Clegane. Send him in."

The Hound bowed and turned and opened the door and admitted Podrick Payne. "Your dagger," Clegane snarled at him and Podrick meekly handed over the dagger that was on his belt. As the squire approached the table the Hound was two steps behind him.

"Yes, what is it?" Cersei immediately demanded in harsh tones as Podrick bowed to her. She was trying to teach her daughter and the other young ladies how to speak to servants and those others beneath their station. Well, perhaps not Joy's station, which was not much higher than a squire like Podrick. She was still young, only eleven, and had the golden hair and green eyes of the Lannisters, so there was little doubt Gerion was her father, or at least some other Lannister. Cersei had never even heard who her mother was, being in King's Landing when the girl was born. When she had once asked her father he put on his coldest demeanor and told her to never speak on Joy Hill ever again. It shamed Tywin Lannister to have a bastard in his family, but still he had given her a place to live and fine clothes and an education, done in respect to his brother's wishes when he had gone off on his foolish adventures to Valyria which had cost him his life. Tyrion continued to honor those wishes, his Uncle Gerion having been one of his favorites.

Podrick turned a bit red as Cersei eyed him intently and the girls all giggled at him when he spoke in his stumbling, stuttering way. "A…a…mess…message, Your Grace. From Lord Tyrion."

He handed her a small rolled up and sealed piece of parchment, and then bowed as she dismissed him. Clegane marched him out of the room and after he was gone the girls started giggling and talking again as Cersei read the message.

_He will see you, tonight, his chambers, when the moon rises._

Cersei felt her heart leap with happiness. Jaime wanted to see her! Now she would set things right.

An hour later and she dismissed the girls and had the Hound take Myrcella to her quarters nearby. She had her maids draw a hot bath and she soaked in it for a good long while until the water grew cold. After drying off she examined her naked body in a Myrish mirror. Still beautiful she said to herself, despite being past thirty name days and having three children. She had always been pretty as a child but as she aged and her bosom blossomed and her legs grew long and shapely her beauty attracted many a wandering eye. She dreamed of marrying the prince, Rhaegar, despite her love for Jaime, who she could never marry. But those dreams were dashed by King Aerys who had refused her hand for his son and heir. Instead she got the prince's killer, who was also a handsome, strong, virile man. Or so she thought. He turned out to be a drunken sot who loved another woman.

Thinking on all that Cersei remembered when she was just a girl and she and her friends had seen the old witch woman who lived in Lannisport. Maggy the Frog she was called. She tasted Cersei's blood and told her she would marry a king and have three children. But the king would have sixteen children. For years that troubled and confused Cersei and then she thought no more of it for a long time. Yet years into her marriage when she learned of Robert's bastards in the Vale and at Storm's End she started to wonder. And after she had three children, none of them his, and she learned he had more bastards, Cersei Lannister became very frightened.

For the witch woman had made some more ominous predictions of her future. She would outlive her children and they would all become kings and queens. Then another more beautiful queen would cast her down from power. Finally, the _valonquar_ would come and take her life. She had not known that word and when she had asked the maester of the Rock he had told her it meant 'little brother' in High Valyrian. From that Cersei took it to mean one day Tyrion would kill her and her hatred for him grew even deeper.

Besides the old woman only one other person knew that prophecy, her friend Melara Hetherspoon, but she was now dead, years ago, soon after they had met the old woman. She had accidentally drowned after she fell in a well. Yes, Cersei remembered, that's how she had died. She fell in a well. She had always been clumsy.

She had never spoken on the woman's predictions with anyone, not even Jaime and certainly not with Tyrion. As the years went by and more and more of the prophecy came true she shuddered in fear. Now Joffrey was dead and Tommen was a king. Would he die as well and Myrcella take his place, only to die as well?

Cersei shuddered in uncontrollable fright. She ran to a side table and poured a glass of wine and gulped it down and then quickly filled the glass again. She sat on her bed and wrapped her arms around herself and shook with fright. She gulped more wine and gradually began to take hold of her senses.

"I am a Lannister," she thought. "I will not let some old woman's words frighten me."

After that she calmed down and rested and then soon it was time to go. She could see the moonlight on the ocean from her apartment windows. There was a chill in the air tonight but Cersei left the shutters opened to let in some air.

She made sure the corridor was empty as she approached Jaime's quarters and soon she was at his door. She was about to knock but she heard voices inside, Jaime and another man. He was not alone. Now she was sure it was three men. One was Ser Kevan and the other…She turned to leave but then the door opened.

"Your Grace," said Lancel Lannister as he bowed to her. She recovered from her surprise and smiled.

"Dear cousin Lancel," she said. "I am glad you are well."

In fact, he did not look well at all. He was pale and his once fine blond hair now looked more grey. Yet the oddest change was what he was swearing. Over some chain mail he had a plain rough spun surcoat with a seven pointed star on it, the symbol of the Seven.

"Ah, Cersei," said Jaime with a grin. "I see Tyrion gave you the news that dear cousin Lancel has returned to us."

"Ah, yes, just a short time ago," she lied. "He said Lancel would be here. May I enter?"

"Of course," Jaime said. She came in and saw her uncle, who had a look of worry and barely even glanced at her as he nodded, not bothering to give her the respect her titles allowed her.

"Uncle," she said, not bothering to press his insolence. "It is good that Lancel is home, is it not?"

"Home?" said Ser Kevan as if he had not heard her properly. "Yes, home. But he wants to go off again. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him, Your Grace. And in your brother."

"Tyrion and the others tasked me with finding a commander," Jaime said to Ser Kevan. "Who better than Lancel? He has already joined them. Why not lead them?"

"Because he is not strong enough," Ser Kevan said with worry.

"Father…the Seven give me strength," Lancel said. "There will be no battles soon. But I must go to the men and help turn them into a fighting force."

"You have joined the Warriors' Sons?" Cersei asked, very surprised at this turn of events.

"Yes, Your Grace," Lancel said. "To atone for my…my…life's…mistakes…my sins. And to thank the gods for giving me life. I will not waste any more of it pursing earthly pleasures."

Cersei thought for a moment he would say "to atone for killing King Robert" and she held her breath but he had said nothing of the sort.

But his father was very vexed by his announcement. "You are my eldest son and heir!" Kevan almost shouted.

"Now my brother Willem will be your heir, Father," Lancel said solemnly. "I renounce my claim to any titles or lands or incomes my father may pass on to me. Ser Jaime, Your Grace Queen Cersei, you are witnesses to my renouncement of my inheritance."

There was a long silence and Kevan finally sighed deeply. "Come, my son. Let us go and talk to your mother and brother."

"I will not change my mind," Lancel told him strongly.

Kevan nodded. "As you wish. But we must discuss this further." He looked to Jaime and Cersei. "Your Grace, Lord Commander. Good evening."

Soon they were gone and Cersei let out her breath and sat in a chair. "What madness was that?"

Jaime poured them two glasses of wine and Cersei saw that as a good sign. "He came here with his father on his heels not one hour after he returned. He hasn't even seen his mother yet. Tyrion met him and found out he had joined the Warriors' Sons and mentioned we were looking for a commander. Hence, my late night visitors."

He handed her a glass and sat at the small table opposite. She sipped the wine and it was of a good vintage, of course. He sipped his and looked over at the fire in his hearth and spoke so suddenly and strongly it frightened her.

"I want to kill Lancel," Jaime said, his words short and brutal and to the point. She knew he was not jesting. She had seen that look before when he had said the same about Robert. Then his demeanor relaxed and he looked at her. "But I can't, can I?'

"No."

He grinned in his devilish way. "Perhaps one of Stannis' spearmen will do the job for me. Lancel is devoted to our cause now. He will gladly throw himself on a spear."

"The sooner the better," Cersei said and then she and Jaime shared a knowing look and they had a laugh. She knew she would get no better chance. She put down her glass and got on her knees in front of him and took his strong beautiful hands in hers.

"I never meant to hurt you, you must know that," she said in a quavering voice, looking up at his green eyes, locking them to hers. "I only did what I did in order to get rid of Robert."

"That was a task I was meant for," he said with some anger in his tone.

"I could not let you endanger yourself. For my love of you and our children."

He snorted. "Children who will never know I am their father."

"It cannot be, you must understand that. Some day perhaps…but not now."

He sighed deeply. "Tommen…he loves me, looks at me like I always imagined a son would look at me."

"He loves you, so does Myrcella. I love you. Isn't that enough?"

"No…but I cannot expect anymore, can I? Then so be it."

She gulped, waited for him to say more but he stayed silent. "Jaime…I miss you."

"You miss my cock," he said in hurtful tones and she knew she deserved it for the way she had laughed at him the last time she had been in this room. "There are plenty more like Lancel around here, all blond and green eyed. Find another cousin who looks like me."

She was stung but did not let go of his hands. "I wounded you. Let me make it up to you."

He said nothing and then his demeanor changed and she saw he was almost in tears. He gulped and looked down at her and took her face in his hands. "Cersei…I never broke faith with you in all those years. If I take you back in my bed, then it has to be the same for you. From now until we both die."

"Yes, yes, my love, I promise with all my heart," she whispered and then he kissed her and his lips tasted like wine and fire and love and she let him pick her up in his strong arms and carry her to his bed. They were wild in their first breath of passion after so many weeks without the others' touch and by morning they had made love three more times and Cersei felt herself satisfied in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

She kissed him goodbye, told him she loved him, and left his rooms before the servants were astir. Her guards were not surprised to see her as she came to her apartments, knowing she had gone out the evening before. They just bowed to her, checked the apartment, and let her in. These two were part of a group of five older guards, well-paid, loyal to her house, who had been with her for many years in King's Landing and knew not to mention where she went and who she was with. She called for hot water and after she cleaned up she had a short nap. It was soon time for her to meet Tommen and Myrcella for breakfast as she always did.

Today she got a surprise as Jaime and Tyrion were there as well. She could not help but blush when she saw Jaime. Tyrion gave her a knowing look. They were almost like a real family except Joffrey was gone…and Tyrion was here. Soon after breakfast Jaime took Tommen for his riding lessons and Myrcella was sent off to her dancing maester to learn the complicated steps of court dance a lady of Westeros needed to know.

After they were gone, Tyrion looked at her steadily. "I have done what was promised. Now you must do the same."

She gave a small snort. "In due time we will have a proper investiture service for your new title as Lord of the Rock. Once other matters are settled."

He grinned in his false way. "You mean if Jaime stays true to you and we win the war and on and on."

"Yes."

"So…never?"

"I never said that." He knew her too well. She would never publicly support his right to the Rock.

"It doesn't have to be a service," Tyrion told her, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Your signature and seal as a witness on my title of inheritance should suffice."

"There is no will with you named as heir," she retorted sharply. "Father left it all to Jaime."

"Jaime renounced his inheritance and I am next in line," Tyrion reminded her with a slight smirk. "Tommen sighed a royal decree naming me Lord of the Rock. All perfectly legal."

Signed while she was asleep. Signed by her son who would stamp and sign anything put in front of him. "Then you don't need my blessings," she snapped.

"But I want it, Cersei," he said. "Sign the documents and it is all done. I did as you asked."

She knew he was right and gave up the game, still feeling somewhat good this morning despite having to endure Tyrion. It had to be those sweet hours in Jaime's arms that made her feel good even in the Imp's presence.

"Fine…but nothing public," she finally said.

"As you wish. Come, we have a banker to see."

They were soon at the great hall which was filled with many of the nobles lords and ladies of the West. Most of the men were serving in the army and were in their crimson cloaks and armor. The ladies were dressed in their finery as was expected. Emmon and Genna were there, as were Ser Kevan and Lancel, and Willem, his brother, plus many other Lannisters and Crakehalls and Marbrands and Leffords, and members of the other noble houses of the west. The back of the hall had some merchants and smallfolk and others, petitioners and those who had come to see the Hand of the King with some complaints.

As they entered the herald shouted their names and titles and Tyrion took the center throne, the King's throne, and Cersei sat to his left. Two of the Kingsguard, Ser Arys and Ser Preston, stood before the dais. They spent an hour dealing with minor complaints and lords with problems and then it was time to meet the banker. Emmon went to fetch him, for he was not in the hall but placed in a side room with food and refreshments as befitting his station.

"How do we address this man?" Cersei asked as they waited. She only half remembered her long ago lessons about the Free Cities.

"He has no official title," Tyrion told her. "In Braavos there are no lords except the Sealord. The city officials have some titles, but this man is just a banker. Just use his name if it is necessary. Tycho Braye, Emmon said it was."

"Such odd names they have."

"As I am sure ours seem to him," her brother replied and Cersei had a retort on her lips but then the herald was shouting.

"Tycho Braye, of the Iron Bank of Braavos!" the herald announced in a loud voice. The man entered the great hall from a side door where he had been waiting. He walked between the row of court members up to the raised dais where Tyrion and Cersei sat. He was of average height and build, and was of a swarthy complexion. He looked younger than Cersei was, and he had a tight mass of dark curly hair, a hooked nose, brown eyes, and as he got closer she could make out a faint scar on his right cheek. He wore the black formal clothing that was common of the higher classes of Braavos, one thing she did remember from her lessons, for she had always loved clothing. Tycho Braye stopped before the guards in front of the dais and bowed formally to Cersei and Tyrion, but he did not go to one knee as many other petitioners had done.

"Queen Cersei and Lord Tyrion, thank you for granting me an audience," he said in smooth tones, his voice betraying neither emotion nor any hint of who he was or where he was from. He spoke the Common Tongue of Westeros as if he was born there.

"Welcome," Tyrion replied just as smoothly. "Any representative of the Iron Bank is welcome in King Tommen's court."

"That is good of you to say, my Lord Hand," Braye replied. "I did not receive such a warm welcome in King's Landing at King Stannis' court."

A low mummer ran through the crowd. Cersei felt her chest tighten and her anger rising in her throat. "Stannis Baratheon is no king!" she said, her voice rising for all to hear. "King Tommen is the only true king in Westeros!"

Braye bowed to her again. "As you say, Your Grace. Forgive me."

"When were you in King's Landing?" Tyrion asked calmly. Cersei suddenly realized that this man might have knowledge they could use.

"A fortnight past, Lord Hand," Braye answered. "The city is still in ruins, but they are slowly rebuilding. Lord Baelish is…"

Cersei snapped at him again. "Petyr Baelish is a traitor!"

Once more he bowed. "If you say so, Your Grace. I was unaware he was branded as such when I spoke with him. But you may wish to know he is K…Lord Stannis' master of coin and is doing an excellent job in that position."

Cersei could sense Tyrion's impatience with her and she saw him out of the corner of her eye staring at her.

"Yes, as he always did for King Robert and King Joffrey," Tyrion said, turning back to Braye. "But Baelish has cast his lot with Stannis and is not a friend of King Tommen anymore. May I ask what business you had in King's Landing?"

"The crown's debts to the Iron Bank, Lord Hand," Braye replied. "I have been sent to make arrangements for repayment."

They already knew this but Cersei wanted to scream at him to get out, the filthy money lender, but she forced herself to remain calm. "Did Stannis promise to repay your bank?" she asked instead.

"He is willing to pay half of his late brother's and nephew's debts, Your Grace," Braye replied. "We have agreed and already we have received the first payment."

Tyrion sighed theatrically. "And I suppose you want King Tommen to pay the other half?"

"Just so, Lord Hand," Braye replied. No doubt Baelish suggested that, Cersei thought in anger. Stannis wanted to play king but did not want all of the obligations that went with it.

"You have the figures?" Tyrion requested and Braye handed a rolled up parchment to Ser Preston who carried it to Tyrion. He opened it, took a quick glance and then nodded and looked back up at Braye. "I must consult with King Tommen's master of coin later today. We shall have an answer for you in the morning. For now the hospitality of Casterly Rock is yours."

"Thank you, Lord Hand, Your Grace," Braye said and then he bowed again and was led away by Emmon.

"We are done for today," Tyrion told the herald and the herald shouted the same to the court as Tyrion and Cersei rose and went out the back door followed by the Kingsguard members.

"Show me it," Cersei demanded as they walked down the corridor. Tyrion handed her the parchment. It had the seal of the Iron Bank and its symbol was etched into the top of the parchment. She quickly read it. "Three million," she said in resignation. She thought it was at least this much, maybe more. The she remembered it was only half. Six million was the total.

"That is the principle, plus one million in interest, which grows even as we speak," Tyrion told her as she read to the bottom of the parchment.

"Do we have it?" she asked.

"Do you mean do I have it?" Tyrion shot back. "Of course I do…the Lannister family does…but the crown…I think not."

"They are one and the same now," she said, staring at her brother intently.

Tyrion stopped and the two Kingsguard members, Ser Arys and Ser Preston, stopped behind them and well away from them, but Tyrion still spoke in a low voice. "Cersei, your son may be King and I his Hand but I am also Lord of the Rock. They are not one and the same. We are not the private bank of the Iron Throne, as our father made clear to Aerys, and Robert, and I am sure he would have said as much to Joffrey in due time. Our family is already paying for soldiers and ships and food and fodder. We cannot go on paying for everything Robert and Joffrey squandered money on as well. The crown still owes the Lannister family three million dragons. Do you want to add another four to that?"

"Tommen won't need all of it," she assured him. "The crown must have some money."

"Where? From what source of incomes?" he said in that irritating incredulous tone he took when he thought other people were being stupid. She had heard him use it often enough over the years. "Those Robert had when he ruled from King's Landing? You may notice we are not there anymore. Any sources of money Robert and Joffrey had Baelish knows all about and he has his grubby little fingers on it by now you can be sure. You heard that man from Braavos. Baelish is setting things right for Stannis. They have sources of income. If you had bothered listening to Uncle Emmon last night you would know the crown has very little money coming in. Where is the money to come from?"

She bristled, hating him more than ever when he spoke to her in that way. Cersei had little concept of money, a curse from always having plenty all her life. Growing up she asked for and got whatever she wanted, within reason. But she knew the Lannister family's gold came from the ground. "We still have our gold mines."

He rolled his mismatched eyes. "Lannister gold mines, not the crown's. It matters not for we cannot speed up gold production, not even for the war effort."

"Why not?" she demanded. They were near the small council room by now. Tyrion looked at the guards staying a respectful distance behind them, and then he nodded to the small council room and entered without a word. She followed him and the guards remained outside.

She took a seat at the table and placed the parchment there. "Well?" Cersei asked.

Tyrion opened the window shutters to let in more light and then he turned to her, remaining standing, so now they were at least at eye level. "Once I told Jaime what I am about to tell you. Gold comes from the ground, yes, and we still have plenty of it. But if we speed up our mining operations and mint more gold to pay these debts, the value of gold will drop from here to Qarth."

"What nonsense is this. A dragon is a dragon."

He sighed. "No, it is not. It is metal, with a stamp on it, nothing more." Her brother was speaking to her as if she was a child and she gritted her teeth but said nothing as he continued. "Its value depends on what men believe it is worth, what they believe it can buy. Most smallfolk have seen coppers and pennies. Some may have touched silver stars and stags in their lifetime. But a golden dragon, that is a rare thing in Westeros, in the world for that matter, and it is rarer still for smallfolk to have seen one and even for some lords to have more than a few in their coin vaults. That's what makes it valuable, that's what makes what we have here and in our mines valuable as well. However, if we dig it all up and mint it and spend it, soon a gold dragon will buy no more than a silver stag."

"The bank only wants four million…"

"They want what they gave us, the exact same value, plus interest," he told her, the impatience clear in her voice. "The terms Robert signed agreed to that, I am sure. He probable never even read it. But I am sure Baelish did. That is why he is agreeing to the banker and in such a hurry to pay off Stannis' share of the debt. Four million could become five or six if the value of gold drops by much."

She made a sneer. "Despicable money lenders."

He laughed and she glared at him. "Everyone dislikes the money lender until they need money themselves," he said.

She knew he was right, Robert had disliked them himself until his own coffers were empty and he had Baelish contact the Iron Bank in Braavos to arrange a loan.

"And if we refuse to pay?" she asked.

He raised his eyebrows. "They have a saying across the Narrow Sea. The Iron Bank always gets its due, one way or another."

She knew what he meant and scoffed at him. "They wouldn't dare attack a King."

"The Faceless Men of Braavos once contracted will carry out their orders no matter what. Maybe not a King, but those close to him, to make him see sense and pay his debts. And you know who is close to Tommen."

He didn't need to say anymore. She was close to Tommen, and so was Jaime, and Tyrion himself, and…Myrcella. Cersei almost gasped as she thought on this but maintained her composure. "Well then, we must find a way to pay this man, or delay him at least until the war is over."

"I heartily agree," Tyrion replied. "Winter is coming, the fall storms are already lashing the Narrow Sea I am sure." Then he grinned. "I could easily give this man four millions from our Lannister vaults. But then how would he get it home? How would he get past the Iron Fleet, past the Step Stone pirates? Yes…perhaps it's best if we pay it all at once to avoid any more interest."

Cersei could not help but grin. "I have a notion of what you plan. The whole court should be there to see it. To see that bankers eyes and to know we have paid our debt in full."

"Indeed," he said and for once she grudgingly admired him. Her brother was many things but stupid was not one of them.

It took the whole night but by morning they were ready. Cersei had spent the night with Jaime again and this time they were more leisurely with their love making. Before she left in the morning he said they had to be more careful, her visits less frequent, and she reluctantly agreed.

Tycho Braye was asked to breakfast with Tyrion and her and her children. They ate with three of her guards and three members of the Kingsguard nearby, close to Tommen's seat. Jaime was with the army today but the Hound was here, standing not three feet behind Myrcella's chair.

As they ate Tommen and Tyrion both pestered the banker endlessly with questions about Braavos and Braye answered them all.

"Will you join us against my Uncle Stannis?" Tommen asked as they neared the end of their meal. Tyrion must have told him to ask that, Cersei thought.

Braye was as smooth as ever. "Braavos is a friend of Westeros and your court, Your Grace. But we do not take sides in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms."

"No, of course not," Tyrion said. "I suppose you have enough troubles of your own."

Braye shrugged. "Not so much these days, my lord. We are far to the north and few dare to challenge us of late. We have many ships and strong defenses, plus great wealth to pay for many swords if we need them."

Behind the words was the unsaid message that Westeros should pay its debts or there would be consequences. He did not mention the Faceless Men but after what Tyrion had said yesterday she knew they were the real threat. Her son and daughter were not but two feet away from this stranger and suddenly she remembered the prophecy of the old witch woman. She had lost one child, she would not lose another. She gritted her teeth and clenched her butter knife and even wanted to shout to the Hound to kill this man but she saw the puzzled look Tyrion gave her and released her knife and smiled broadly. "Well, I think it is time to get to business. Yes, brother dear?"

"Quite right," Tyrion said before he turned to Braye. "We have the means to pay the crown's debt, plus the interest."

Braye smiled. "I would have expected nothing less, Lord Hand."

"Indeed," said Tyrion. "Payment will be made in full."

"When may I ask?"

"Come with me and we shall make the arrangements."

Cersei looked to the Hound and the other Kingsguard members. "The King and his sister have their lessons with the maesters."

"Yes, Your Grace," the Hound answered and soon he and the other Kingsguards men left with her children while Cersei's three personal guards remained. They said good bye to Tommen and Myrcella, with Braye bowing deeply before them as they left.

After that the three of them walked down empty corridors towards the great hall, with two of her guards behind them and one in front.

"Such lovely children, Your Grace," Braye said as they walked "I am sorry about the loss of your son, King Joffrey. He fought bravely, they say in King's Landing, even Stannis' men."

"Yes," Tyrion said. "Until he fell into the sea."

Braye stopped and looked at them in puzzlement and suddenly Cersei knew something was wrong with the story they had heard. "Tell me what they say about my son, how he died in the sea," she demanded.

He seemed to gulp and looked out of sorts for a moment. "I thought you knew, Your Grace. The people say he did not die when he fell into the sea."

"Gods!" Cersei gasped. "They burned him alive?!"

Even Tyrion, who she knew had little love for Joffrey, seemed aghast at this possibility but Braye soon corrected them. "He survived the fall...but was captured and brought before Lord Stannis. He slew King Joffrey in single combat, Your Grace."

She was shocked and wanted to cry for her dead son again, but controlled her emotions. "Better by the sword than the flame," Cersei said quietly.

"Gods," Tyrion said this time. "A grown man against a thirteen year old boy? Is that Stannis' notion of fairness?"

"Just so," Braye said quietly. "They say King Joffrey's arm was broken and he could barely stand when they fought. Many whisper that Stannis murdered him, even though the King had a sword in his hand."

Cersei felt weak and wanted to run to her other children and hold them tight but she knew she had to keep her composure.

"My son died like a true King," Cersei said, staring at Braye in all the regal manner she could muster, her head held high, her eyes hard. She turned to Tyrion. "I want this news known to all. I want all of Westeros to know how King Joffrey died with his sword in his hand defending his people, his family, and the realm. See to it."

"Of course, sister," Tyrion said with a slight bow. "Now we have other matters to attend to."

If Braye meant to disarm them with this news he was mistaken. She knew how to take bad news and shut it aside until she was ready to deal with it.

All of the lords and ladies of Casterly Rock were there, some one hundred people plus many guards. Many were talking and staring at the great bulky object in the center of the room. It was covered by a canvas tarp so none could see what was inside. Bronn stood there with ten men surrounding the mysterious object.

"Queen Regent Cersei Lannister and Lord Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King and Lord of Casterly Rock!" the herald shouted and all went silent. Cersei and Tyrion walked up to the pile with Braye behind them.

"You asked for payment," Tyrion said to him as he waved toward the pile "Well, here it is."

He nodded to Bronn and then Bronn and his men turned and lifted up the tarp and pulled it aside. A gasp went up from the people. There in a pile were many large open chests all filled with gold dragons. Four million exactly, the weary master of the vaults told her brother at dawn, before Tyrion sent him off to his bed. Cersei guessed few in all the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen so much gold at one time in one place. Perhaps none except the master of the vaults at Casterly Rock. The looks of astonishment on the lords' and ladies' faces was satisfying and Cersei knew they would tell this story to all they met, to spread the word that the fabled wealth of Casterly Rock was no fable. As Cersei looked at it she felt a thrill shoot through her body, almost a sexual thrill, at the power that the gold represented, at the power that was hers and her family's.

As the crowd still muttered, Cersei stared at Braye. "You have been paid in full. This matter is concluded. The Lannisters always pay their debts." She saw Tyrion wince a bit as she said that. Yes, her son the King was named Baratheon but he was a full blooded Lannister and she thought of him as nothing less.

It was hard to tell what was going through Braye's mind as he stared at the gold. The tension almost became unbearable and then he finally spoke. "Just so. Thank you, Your Grace. Yet, I must say that this is highly irregular and unexpected."

That's the point, you idiot, Cersei thought. "Oh?" she answered in mock surprise.

"I am just a messenger, Your Grace," he answered. "But if you wish to make such a large and complete payment now, then so be it. You must understand I shall have to make arrangements to move so much. Perhaps I shall need to hire a ship or two."

"I should think twice before I did that," Tyrion advised. "It is a long way from here to Braavos. The Iron Fleet is still out there somewhere. And the pirates off the Step Stones are also numerous. Not to mention the storms that must now plague the Narrow Sea."

Braye grunted and then a sort of half smile came to his face. "My Lord Hand speaks wisely," the banker said. "Perhaps…another arrangement can be made. There is no doubt that you do have the funds to replay the loan. A small advance on that payment now will suffice. Say…300,000? The rest to be collected when practical. I will draw up the papers and then start my journey home."

"That should be fine," Tyrion told him. "But now that we have made payment the interest payments will stop. Yes?"

Braye grimaced and Cersei knew he did not like this. "Just so," he finally said.

"You may stay as long as you wish," Tyrion told him. "The Rock has never fallen victim to pirates. Your gold will be safe here until the seas are safer." Which as far as Cersei was concerned was after the war, if ever. With luck perhaps they would never have to repay these scheming money lenders.

Braye smiled warmly but she could see the coldness in his eyes. He has been shamed and he knows it. Tyrion led him away with Bronn following them, but Cersei stayed and admired the gold. She told the guards to leave it uncovered and for a good long while she went around the room and talked with the people and shared gossip and jests about the man from Braavos and his gold. More than one said it was a clever ploy, and spoke admiringly about her and Tyrion. Yet at the same time they stared at the gold and she could see the jealously on many faces. After a while she ordered the men to begin returning the gold to the vaults and the court session for the day was adjourned until the afternoon when the Hand and Lord of the Rock was free to hear petitions and complaints.

That night it was warmer than usual. After saying goodnight to her children, she returned to her quarters and her guards stayed outside after checking her rooms as usual. Jaime had said they could not see each other tonight and she had agreed. Seeing each other infrequently and secretly was how they had done this all their lives, waiting for that moment when they could rush into each others arms, made all the sweeter by the anticipation of waiting for the right moment and the secrecy involved.

Still, Cersei did not like sleeping alone. When she was younger she often had one of her maids sleep wither as was the custom in the noble houses. But now she needed a man in her bed. Her mind strayed a bit but then remembered her promise to Jaime and vowed to keep it.

Cersei drank some wine and had her maids bring hot water. Soon as they were done she dismissed them and in minutes she was lying naked in the water, her head tilted back, letting the bath oils and powders fill her nose with their fresh scents. Then she thought on what the man from Braavos told her about Joffrey and almost wept with sadness. But he was dead and no tears would bring him back now.

Suddenly Cersei felt a chill in the air, as if a window was open, and within a heartbeat something steel and sharp was at her throat and a hand was clasped over her mouth from behind. She struggled a moment and the water splashed but his steel-like vise gripped her harder.

"Don't struggle," whispered a voice, calm and soft, in a strange accent she had never heard before. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. All you have to do is listen and nod. Do you understand?"

Cersei's mind whirled in panic. An assassin was in her room! Guards! Jaime! Tyrion! Save me!

And then she remembered the prophecy. She was not to die tonight. Not until the gods tormented her soul with more loss and pain. Maybe it was better if she did die tonight but quickly dismissed that thought as well. Slowly she began to calm herself.

"I said do you understand?" came the voice, harsher now and the cold steel bit into her delicate skin. She nodded once.

"Good," he said in a long, slow way, drawing out the word as his hot breath blew on her right ear. She could not smell him, nor see him, only feel his hand and his steel. "You and your brother made a mistake today. You mocked the Iron Bank. The Iron Bank will have its due, in gold or blood, one way or the other. Yet you choose to humiliate the bank, in front of your court, so all the world will know. I could kill you and your brothers and your children and no one would know how or who had done the deed. But that would end the war rather quickly and that is bad for the bank's business. No, I have chosen to humiliate you as well, to show the world how powerless you Lannisters are even in your own home. This is a warning. Tell Lord Tyrion the arrangement will stand, that the bank will honor Braye's agreement. The bank will have its payment, in full, as promised by your husband and first son and now your second son. There shall be no more interest. But the Lannisters and King Tommen and any heirs he shall have are no longer welcome to do business with the Iron Bank. Ever. Do you understand?"

Once more she nodded.

He said no more, and slowly took away his hand from her mouth. Cersei was paralyzed with fear, fear that he would still kill her despite his promises and the prophecy and the fact that her mind could not accept the fact of her death. After a few moments she heard no sound and turned and no one was there. Then she screamed. No one answered her cries.

As she stumbled out of her bath and put on her dressing robes she screamed again.

"GUARDS!"

No one came.

That frightened her more than anything. She ran to the door, opened it and saw a scene of horror. Her two guards were lying in pools of blood, both of their throats slit.

"Tommen! Myrcella!" she yelled and then she ran through the hall to their apartments. As she ran she saw another man, dead beside a pile of towels, his blood soaking them. A servant, she knew not his name. In the corridor close to Tommen's rooms two women lay dead in each others arms, more servants, with their throats slit as well. With her heart in her mouth she raced down the hall to Tommen's quarters and to her relief she saw Ser Mandon Moore standing there outside of Tommen's door.

"Ser Mandon! The King! Is he safe?"

But Ser Mandon did not answer her. He stared off, seeming to look at the torch flickering in its wall mount nearby. His eyes were wide and…dead, his body propped up against the wall as if by some invisible hand. She saw no blood but then notice a small dart in his neck, just below his jaw line. Cersei touch his arm slightly and then his body crumpled to the floor in a clatter of steel as his armor hit the stone floor. She screamed once more and flung open her son's rooms' doors.

"TOMMEN!" she yelled and then she heard him stir in his bed and she ran to him.

"Mother?" he asked in a groggy voice, just waking up. "What…"

But before he could talk more, she heard running footsteps. "Shush, my son!" she whispered fiercely. She scooped him up and carried him behind his dressing screen and pulled down his clothes from their hangers and hid him under them. She looked around for a weapon but saw none. The footsteps came closer and then were in the room.

Her heart in her mouth, in the darkness Cersei buried herself under the clothes with her son and they held each other tight, Tommen shaking with fright. "Mother…" he tried to whisper but she shushed him once more.

Slowly the footsteps entered the room and then came a voice and Cersei almost cried with joy.

"Tommen!" Jaime shouted and then she was up with her son in her arms and Jaime held her and Tommen and kissed them both and said he was here now and all was well. She was babbling on about all she saw and what had happened and he kept saying they were safe now.

"No!" she shook her head, almost hysterical. "We are not safe! He's one of _them_. From Braavos! It has to be!"

"I will kill them all!" Jaime growled and then more footsteps came and Jaime had his sword out and Cersei and Tommen were shoved behind him. A long shadow fell across the doorway as the footsteps slowed.

"Come out you cowards and fight like men!" Jaime yelled.

Tyrion slowly stepped in the doorway with his arms held out, showing he had no weapons. Other shadows were behind him, Bronn and Podrick Payne among them.

"Thank the gods you are all safe," Tyrion said with relief.

"Myrcella!" Cersei suddenly shriek, her mind dizzy with all that was happening. Tyrion calmed her fears right away.

"She is safe with the Hound and ten guardsmen in her room."

"Bring her here! Now!"

"Not until the corridors are safe," Jaime told her gently and she numbly nodded.

Cersei quickly told Tyrion what had happened and then he turned to the guards and began giving commands. "Bronn, lock down the castle. No one comes or goes at all. Then wake up the whole garrison and find these assassins! Then find the Braavosi banker and bring him to the great hall. Alive!"

"Aye," said Bronn and he and Podrick and some others left.

"Get some men and see to the dead," Tyrion told two other guardsmen. "Have them taken to the maesters and clean up the blood." The men moved to follow Tyrion's orders while a few others stayed with Tyrion, guarding the hallway.

Cersei then collapsed on the bed, sitting with Tommen still in her arms, his head on her left shoulder.

"How many are dead?" Jaime asked his brother.

"I don't know," he said wearily. "Ser Mandon, maybe ten other guards, several servants. I was on my way to the wine cellar with Bronn when we found a serving man dead with his throat cut. I raised the alarm…but it was too late for many. What happened with you?"

Jaime sighed. "I went to Cersei's apartments. I found her two guards dead and she was missing. I knew she would either be here or with Myrcella. Then I started finding more dead and ran here right away."

"An assassin, in Casterly Rock," Tyrion said, his eyes hard and angry.

"Just one man?" Jaime asked with raised eyebrows.

As her brothers argued over what had happened, Cersei just felt all the energy drain out of her. She hugged Tommen and he was crying, trying not to, but crying still the same and that angered Cersei. She was not angry at her son, but at those who made him frightened and made him cry.

Then she remembered. She remembered the assassin's words. "Your brother made a mistake." She stared at Tyrion as he and Jaime still argued. It was him, it was all his fault that Tommen and Myrcella and she had almost died. He humiliated the banker and so the banker had called his assassin to humiliate them. The old witch woman had prophesied that Tyrion would kill her. In that moment, as she held her trembling son in her arms, she knew she had to do it first. She had to kill Tyrion. But first she would drag him down, push his ugly face in the mud of scandal, mock him in front of all of Westeros. And then she would see his deformed head on a spike, even if it took her very last breath to do so.


	5. Chapter 5 Eddard

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 - Chapter 5 Eddard**

The winch cage was swung on its crane over the north side of the Wall and began its slow descent. Eddard Stark, his son Robb, the Greatjon Umber, and the wildling woman Osha were inside, along with Robb's direwolf Grey Wind. They were all well armed even though Robb carried a colored peace banner on a staff. They were heading to a parley with Mance Rayder. It was near noon, but the sun was low on the horizon and dark clouds were forming to the west

The morning after Ned had his confrontation with the commanders of the Night's Watch came too soon and Ned was barely rested, sleep not coming easy, his mind a whirl with what he needed to do in the morning. He broke his fast with Robb and with his lords and told them his orders. Walton, Thoros, and Dondarrion would stay in Castle Black and wait for the rest of the men coming up the Kingsroad. The Greatjon and Robb would join him in going to see Mance Rayder...if he would come out to meet them, which seemed likely since he had asked for a parley a few days past. He also ordered Osha to go with them and she seemed reluctant to face her people again but finally agreed. Ned had the peace banner made, a tall staff with a banner the colors of the rainbow. Mance Rayder would know what it meant, even if the wildlings…free folk…did not.

Ser Alliser Thorne nor any of the other senior Night's Watch commanders came to see him or discuss what would happen. Ned was not surprised, but it boded ill for their future cooperation. They were still angry that he had decided to treat with Mance Rayder. All except Maester Aemon, who Ned found in Jon's room before he set off for the top of the Wall.

"How is he?" Ned asked the maester.

"Better," Aemon replied. "But he should stay abed one more day."

Jon protested. "I'm fine, Maester Aemon. I can return to duty."

"No," Ned told him. "Once you are declared fit, Thorne means to try you for what you did. But I still need you to come to the Wall with me to do one thing. Maester, can he at least walk?"

"I can run and ride and fight if need be," Jon said. He stood from his bed and though he was wobbly on his feet he stayed up without support.

"Get dressed and meet me at the winch cage when ready," Ned ordered. He looked to the maester. "Tell Thorne that Jon is not fit yet but we need him on the Wall for one small duty and then he is to return to his bed."

"As you wish, Lord Stark," Aemon replied.

A short while later Jon met them at the base of the Wall at the winch cage. Robb clapped him on the back and Jon almost staggered from the blow but kept his footing.

"All better, Snow?" Robb asked in a jovial manner.

"Fine," Jon, said and then he coughed a bit. "Let's go."

As they rose, Ned told them his plan.

"I and I alone will speak with Mance Rayder," Ned told them, knowing it was a faint hope they would obey him. Robb would do his best to obey, but was growing more independent, and of course that came from his time spent as leader of the North. The Greatjon always spoke his mind and had no love for the wildlings. And Osha was one of the free folk, who would also speak her mind, even though she was now in service to the Starks.

"You will keep an eye on any others he comes with," Ned continued as the cage rose higher "And to the woods beyond for signs of a trap."

"Mance will want words with me," Jon said. "I should come as well."

Ned shook his head. "You're staying on the Wall."

"I should come. I know them," Jon protested

"Which is why you can't come," Ned told him in a stern but not critical tone. "They will know you for a turncloak and you being there will anger them."

Jon understood but did not like it. "You're job is to look them over from the Wall," Ned told him. "Tell me who is who and what their weaknesses and strengths are if any."

"As you say, Father," Jon said, eyes downcast. Ned knew the boy wanted to make up for his perceived failings. He had done more than that by commanding and defending the Wall when they were in peril. But Ned could tell he was full of guilt still for killing the Halfhand, for telling Mance Rayder about the Watch, and for the loss of the girl Ygritte.

At the top of the Wall they got out and greeted the men on duty there and Jon quickly explained what they needed. Ned had a roll of parchment with him with a message for Mance Rayder. They tied the message to an arrow that had some red and yellow cloth tied to it to make it more visible. The best bowman in the Night's Watch fired it high in the air from the top of the Wall, the arrow flying far out into the snowy field that separated the Wall from the beginnings of the haunted forest.

"Maybe they won't come for it," Robb said.

"Then we'll send another and another after that until they get curious enough to come look," Ned replied.

But they didn't need to send any more arrows. After a long wait a wildling dressed all in furs came out of the forest, found the arrow, picked it up and carried it back. Ned and the others were just finishing their noon meal of dried beef and bread and ale when one of the Night's Watch men on duty shouted.

"Group of wildlings coming, my lord."

Master Aemon had given the men on the Wall an old Myrish eye glass he had used for decades to observe the stars, a device the blind maester no longer had any use for. The men of the Watch used it to keep an eye on the wildlings and now Ned put it to his eye and looked at who was coming. He saw four wildlings, all on shaggy horses smaller than the ones people south of the Wall rode. He handed the glass to Jon, who looked and began talking.

"The big one on the left with the huge beard is Tormund Giantsbane," Jon reported. "He boasts a lot but he is as strong as an aurochs. Friendly too, one of the few who actually tried to be friends with me. To his right, the one with the dog's head on the staff is Harma. She hates dogs and hates me, more so now I am sure. Mance Rayder is to her right, plain looking, with brown hair, going a bit grey, lanky and broad. And on the far right is Rattleshirt, but don't call him that. He prefers the Lord of Bones. You can see why. He is not a friend of anyone, not even his own people. He and Harma were once enemies and are still wary of each other."

"That is good to know," Ned answered.

Jon handed the eye glass to Robb who then handed it to the Greatjon after he had a look. Then he gave it to Osha who looked at it in wonder and then put it to her right eye. After a bit she took it down and handed the instrument to Jon.

"Do you know them?" Ned asked her.

"Never met them but know of them," she replied. "What Jon Snow says is about the right of it from what I heard."

"I know of Tormund," growled the Greatjon. "Giantsbane my arse. If he killed any giants they must have been babes still at their mother's teats."

"Time to go," was all Ned Stark said.

"We'll be ready with the archers if you need to retreat," Jon told him. Ned looked around at the men on the Wall. The big one called Grenn was there, as were many others Ned did not know yet. But Jon knew them all and Ned sensed they respected him and would obey him. "I thought Thorne or some of the others might be up here," Jon said.

Ned grunted. "Your brothers of the Watch think we are off to treat with a traitor." He gave Jon a steady look. "I know it was your idea. Maester Aemon told me. A good one it is at that."

"That is yet to be seen, Ned," the Greatjon said. He stared at Jon. "Boy, if we come running back don't be shy about dropping everything you got on them chasing us."

Robb laughed. "You? Run? Never seen it and never will."

"When the odds are good I never run," the Greatjon retorted. "But four against all of the wildlings in the world. Even I don't like those odds."

"They won't attack us," Ned said with a confidence he did not really feel. "Mance will honor the peace. He asked for this parley. We best go. He won't wait forever."

They started for the cage and as the others went ahead Jon stopped Osha, grabbing her roughly by the left arm. He growled at her in a low voice. "I know you not except that you attacked my brother Bran. If you and your friends do any harm to these men, I will see you gutted and left alive for the crows to pick over."

Osha hauled her arm out of his grasp and glared at him as he glared back. "Your news is old, Jon Snow. You best ask your father and brother how I helped House Stark when the ironmen came calling."

Robb came to her defense. "It's true, Jon. I forgot to mention it. She helped save Bran and Rickon."

Jon's glare softened a bit. "I…I did not know."

She snorted. "No. All you see is your enemy. Those out there ain't my friends no more, Jon Snow. More yours than mine, the way I hear it."

She said no more and went to the cage where Ned had overheard it all. Aye, perhaps she was right in some ways, he thought. Jon had lived and raided with the wildlings and took one in his arms. His own brothers of the Night's Watch suspected his loyalties and soon they would put him on trial for his crimes. Ned was not looking forward to that. They might punish him in some way. If it was anything but death Ned would have to stand aside and let it be. But if they tried to kill him, Ned knew he and his men would put a stop to it, and to hell with tradition.

In moments the cage was being lowered, buffeted a bit by the wind. Ned had been in it a few times before today and had never liked it. A man should not be up in the air where the birds flew. The others were also a bit nervous, even Osha, her eyes wide as she looked down.

"I thought you climbed the Wall?" Ned said to her.

"I've climbed the Wall, aye, and was afraid then as well. I said a prayer to the old gods then as I do now. At least when I climbed I had a strong rope, claws on my feet, spikes in my hands, and good men with me. I never felt as helpless as we are now or when we came up the other side."

"It will hold," Ned told her. "What Jon said to you. Pay no mind to it."

"I know you still don't trust me, so why should he?" she replied.

"You gave us plenty of reasons not to trust you, despite helping my brothers," Robb told her, as he bent down to steady Grey Wind. The direwolf kept growling and seem very skittish. "Easy boy."

"You best keep him in hand," Osha told him. "Harma hates dogs. Might be she hates direwolves as well, since they are cousins of dogs."

The Greatjon laughed and it seemed as if his laughter would crack the Wall itself so near to their cage. "Woman, Grey Wind is no pup to be slaughter by any wildling. He had a taste of me once so I know what I speak of. I've seen him drag Lannister men off their horses and rip the throats from them and their mounts."

"We want no trouble," Ned told them. "So keep Grey Wind in hand Robb."

"Aye, Father. But if I sense treachery, I will set him on Mance Rayder first."

"Good," was all Ned said to his son. Treachery they all feared, and maybe Mance did as well. Parleys were a dangerous thing and more than one lord had been killed when he let his guard down at a parley.

Thankfully they reached the bottom without incident. They climbed out of the cage and started walking toward where the wildlings on their horses were waiting. The ground had a light covering of snow, not more than an inch thick, Ned thought. Soon it would be much more. They passed by the dead remains of a mammoth killed in the earlier fighting. It was black with crows that covered it as they picked at the rotting carcass. Even in the cold the smell was ripe.

As Ned's party got closer to the meeting spot the wildlings climbed off their horses. That was good, Ned thought. Mance wants us to see he means no treachery. A man on a horse looking down on a man on the ground had advantage, both in a fight and in any discussion, which was one reason why lords and knights rode horses and smallfolk didn't.

"Lord Stark," Mance Rayder said as an introduction. "I did not expect to see you here, north of the Wall."

Ned looked over this so–called King Beyond the Wall and remembered him. The singer from King Robert's feast. An average looking man, somewhat tall and broad, with brown hair flecked with grey, perhaps past forty name days, maybe closer to fifty.

"I am Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell," Ned began. "I know you are Mance Rayder, former member of the Night's Watch. They call you the King Beyond the Wall, leader of the free folk. Should I bend the knee or not?"

Mance laughed. "No, Lord Stark. No one bends their knees north of the Wall. No one pays homage to me. I have no titles and my leadership is based on the consent of the free folk, nothing more. You may call me Mance."

"As you wish," Ned replied.

Mance looked at Robb. "This is your eldest son, Robb Stark."

Robb was standing next to Ned, one hand on Grey Wind, the other on the pommel of his sword. The peace banner staff was planted in the snow next to him. Ned knew Mance knew Robb from when he had visited Winterfell almost a year past.

"I am," Robb replied.

"A direwolf is a dangerous pet to keep," Mance observed.

"I raised him from a pup," Robb told him. "He's only dangerous to my enemies."

Mance Rayder ignored the unsaid threat and his gaze shifted. "The Greatjon Umber, your sigil I know well."

"Your raiders I know as well," the Greatjon growled. "Some of their heads are on spikes atop my castle gates."

The Greatjon looked like he was spoiling for a fight but thankfully Mance said nothing in return as his gaze fell on Osha. "And you…you I know not."

"Osha is one of your people," Ned told him. "Come south to get away from them with blue eyes, she said. Now she serves my house as a spear woman."

Rattleshirt spat and looked at Osha. "Does this man speak for you woman? Do you have a tongue of your own or did the knee benders cut it out of your mouth?"

"I have a tongue, Lord of Bones," Osha snarled. "And a spear and a sword, if you care to hear them sing as well."

There was an uneasy silence for a moment and then Tormund Giantsbane laughed, a booming laugh that might even overshadow the Greatjon's, Ned thought. "She is one of ours, no doubt."

"Yes," said Mance Rayder and shifted his gaze back to Ned. "Lord Stark, I asked for a parley with the Night's Watch days ago. Yet I see no man of the Watch with you. Why is that?"

"I think you know why," Ned answered.

Mance grunted. "They still brand me as a traitor. Very well. I expected nothing less. I suppose now you tell me you have raised all of the North and will soon have thousands of men on the Wall and behind it."

"Aye," Ned said, and said no more, wanting Mance to do the talking, to find out what he wanted.

"We have been branded wildlings and enemies of the realm, yet here were are, talking," Mance continued. "But what are we talking about, Lord Stark?"

"You asked for the parley," Ned reminded him.

"I did," Mance said. "But not with you. With the Watch. Do you speak for the Watch?"

"I speak for the North and for King Stannis Baratheon. I have no control over the Watch, as you well know since you were once one of them."

Mance snorted. "Yes, once one of them, now their enemy. You ask what I want. I will tell you, Lord Stark. I want peace. I want my people to live free and live till they are old. We are people just like you, not the barbarians and wild things you southerners make us out to be. We want to go south of the Wall, to find lands, empty lands. We will live as you southerners live, hunt and fish and farm and try to raise our children without fear. We want to go south. That is all."

The Greatjon snarled in anger. "Your lot has come south of the Wall plenty of times and killed my people!"

"These raids will stop once we are established on our own lands, Lord Umber," Mance assured him. "There will be no more need to decorated your gates with our heads."

"So you say," the Greatjon retorted. He looked at the others with Mance. "But it's in their blood and it's no easy thing to stop what you have been doing all your life."

"Lord Umber speaks true," Ned added. "If you come south of the Wall you must all be subject to the laws of the realm and the King's justice."

"Which king?" Tormund said with derision. "We hear you have two of them now. One for each knee."

Harma and Rattleshirt laughed when he said this but Mance kept silent.

"We will obey the laws of the realm…up to a point," he told Ned. "We will keep the King's peace, whoever he is, in our lands. We will obey the laws of the realm. We will not raid. But know this. Our people will not send men or women into battle at any lord's command to fight his petty wars with his neighbors. We will not pay taxes to any lord. We will be independent, on our own lands, with our own leaders."

"You ask a lot," Ned said. Stannis would not like it, he knew, but Ned might be able to persuade him…if he wins the war.

"What lands do you plan to settle on?" Robb asked. "All of the land belongs to one lord or another. They will not give it up so easily."

"Aye," said the Greatjon, glaring at Mance.

"The Gift," Mance told them, speaking of he lands adjacent to the Wall that stretch for fifty leagues to the south. "It belongs to no lord. There are whole swaths of land with not a soul on them. Forests with game, rivers and lakes with fish. Land good enough to plant a crop in summer."

"The Gift belongs to the Watch," Ned reminded him. Ned knew that legend said that Bran the Builder had given the first Gift of twenty-five leagues to the Night's Watch. Then Queen Alysanne had come north on a visit and convinced her husband King Jaehaerys the First to double the size of the Gift to fifty leagues.

"What use do they make of it?" Mance asked. "In all my years as a brother of the Watch nothing was done to improve the Gift, to make it more habitable for people to settle."

The Greatjon grunted. "Because your lot with your raiding put the fear into any who would be so foolhardy to live so close to the Wall."

"If they were real men they would have stayed and fought for their lands," Rattleshirt said with scorn in his voice.

"Enough," Mance said strongly, and the Lord of Bones bristled but kept silent. Mance looked to Ned. "The Watch has no need for the land. We do."

"I cannot speak for the Watch or King Stannis," Ned told him. "But I will bring your terms to them. But you must do something for us in return."

"I'm listening," Mance answered.

"The Others, White Walkers, whatever you call them. Are they truly out there?"

"Aye," said Tormund Giantsbane. "Nipping at our heels the whole way."

"They did not attack us in force," Mance told them. "But they are there, and their wights are as well. They took the Fist of the First Men and slaughtered the Night's Watch men there. We also found some dead at Crastor's Keep."

"Commander Mormont?" Ned asked.

Mance nodded. "Stabbed in the gut. We burned his body, along with some more we found."

"How can we stop the wights and Others?" Ned asked.

"With fire," Harma said. Ned already knew this but thought they might have some other way.

"How many are they?" Robb asked.

"Many and more, but no one truly knows," Mance answered. "They are coming to the Wall and only the Wall can stop them. That's why you must let us through."

The Greatjon laughed. "What if we just left you lot here to piss your furs when the blue eyes slaughter you?"

Rattleshirt growled. "This is a waste of breath. These knee benders have no love for us."

"No, we don't," Ned told him. "The people of the North hate you all. Little children hear tales of wildlings and fear them. But they also hear tales of the Others. Tales we all thought were myths until now. If we don't stop them here, at the Wall, what will stop them further south? Nothing."

Mance looked at him shrewdly. "You want us to join forces to defeat the White Walkers?"

"Aye," Ned said.

"And what assurances do we have that we will be allowed through the Wall when they are defeated or retreat?"

"The Gift was given to the Watch by the realm. If the Watch does not give you some of its lands, then King Stannis will find a way to give it to you, I am sure. I will do my best to make sure you get some part of the Gift. You have my word on this."

Mance thought on it for a long moment and then nodded. "I have heard you are a man of your word, Lord Stark. I must bring this to my people."

"Don't wait too long," Ned advised him. "Winter is truly coming in all its fury soon and it will only strengthen the Others and weaken us."

"That is not news to us," Mance said. He seemed about to leave but stopped and looked back at Ned again. "I sent a party of raiders across the Wall. Your son among them."

"I will tell you what happened to them if you tell me if you and your people have had word of my brother Benjen."

"I have not seen or heard of Benjen Stark in over a year. Not since I saw him at Winterfell when you feasted King Robert."

If Mance Rayder meant to shock Ned with this comment he was soon disappointed. "I know you were there, playing for us as we feasted. I know the whole story."

"So Jon Snow lives to tell it?"

"He does."

"And those with him?" Tormund asked.

"All dead," Robb told them.

"The girl too…Ygritte?" Rattleshirt asked.

"All of them," Ned answered.

"But not Jon Snow," Harma said and she spat on the ground as if to curse Jon.

"Told you he would turn his cloak again," Rattleshirt said with anger to Mance Rayder.

"You trusted him as well," Tormund shot at Rattleshirt.

"I never did. You wanted to be his friend, not I," Rattleshirt retorted.

Mance Rayder said nothing but just climbed on his horse. "You will have your answer by tomorrow, Lord Stark," he told Ned and then without another word he turned his horse around and slowly trotted to the forest and was soon followed by those he came with.

Ned ordered his party to go as well. As they were walking back to the cage suddenly Grey Wind became very agitated. He started growling and as Robb tried to control him he went running off to the west, yapping and howling as he went.

"What's got into your beast?" the Greatjon asked.

"Don't know," Robb answered. He cupped his hands and shouted. "Grey Wind! Come back!"

Osha's sharp eyes saw it first. "There's another one. All white." Soon the rest of them saw it as well, its white fur blending in well with the snowy background.

"It's Ghost," Ned said, surprised to see the white direwolf. Jon had told Robb that Ghost was with him when he went ranging but when he climbed the Wall Ghost could not follow.

In moments Ghost and Grey Wind were yapping and nipping away at each other and bouncing around in the snow. Robb had to yell three more times before Grey Wind started heading back to them, Ghost on his heels.

Ghost bounced around and looked from one to the other and then yapped and growled and then whined a bit.

"He wants Jon," Robb said.

"Aye," Ned replied. "Then let's not disappointed him. Time to go."

Soon they were back at the cage and heading up the Wall again. As they rose, Osha was staring off to the west. Ned followed her gaze and saw the western horizon getting darker as storm clouds moved their way.

"Storm coming," Osha said. "Bad one."

"Aye," the Greatjon agreed. "I can smell it on the air."

The cage was soon at the top and Jon and the other men of the Night's Watch helped swing it over so they could get out safely. Suddenly Ghost started going crazy, bouncing around inside the cage, clawing at the door, and as Jon opened it Ghost leaped out at him and knocked him down and started licking his face. Jon did not seem surprised to see Ghost. More than likely he sensed him near and knew he was coming home. One more thing Ned needed to talk to Maester Aemon about. But it would have to wait.

"Ghost!" Jon shouted as the direwolf continued to lick his face. He started laughing as Robb came out of the cage and pulled Ghost off of him. Jon slowly got up and nuzzled Ghost. "Where did you find him?"

"He found us," Ned told him. Jon seemed so happy now, looking better than when Ned first saw him. His happiness at seeing Jon well was tempered by the knowledge that soon he would have to face trial for his actions.

While the cage was making its slow descent the storm began, first with a few flurries and then with more snow as they reached the bottom. At the bottom of the Wall on the other side, Ser Alliser Thorne, Ser Denys Mallister and Bowen Marsh were waiting for them, as was Steelshanks Walton. Before they set down Ned turned to Jon.

"Let me deal with him. You say nothing."

"Aye, Father," Jon said but Ned could see his features tightened as he stared down at Ser Alliser and the others.

"What news, Lord Stark?" Ser Denys asked immediately as the cage was opened.

"News there is, which I will tell to all the commanders together," Ned replied.

Ser Alliser was paying no mind to Ned, his eyes fixed on Jon. "You seem fit, Snow. Time for us to deal with certain matters."

Before Jon could reply Ned glared at Thorne. "Maester Aemon says he needs more rest. There will be no trial till he is well."

"He is well enough to go to the top of the Wall, he is well enough to answer for his crimes."

Jon said nothing as Ned wished but just glared at Ser Alliser.

"Let it be, Ser Alliser," Ser Denys advised. "There is a storm coming and we have more important worries to deal with."

Ser Alliser bristled for a minute and then stared at Jon. "Soon, Snow. Soon, you will pay." He turned and stalked off, shouting orders to men to get ready for the storm.

"He is persistent," Robb observed.

Ser Denys grunted. "He is not the only one demanding this matter be taken of. Sorry Jon, but many men wish to see you punished in some way. Soon you must face our justice."

"I will be ready," was all Jon said. "By your leave, I will returned to my sick bed."

Ser Denys nodded. "As you wish."

"Robb, go with him," Ned commanded and soon Robb and Jon and their two direwolves were marching across the castle courtyard towards the armory.

Ned finally turned to Walton. "How fair things?"

"Our people are still coming up the Kingsroad, my lord," Walton answered. "Some riders I sent south saw a large group about half a day's march away. They also report more men and supplies strung out behind them."

Ned looked to the sky and the falling snow. "They will be cold and hungry when they get here."

Bowen Marsh spoke up. "My stewards are preparing some of the older castle buildings for your men, Lord Stark. We could use some help."

"Aye," Ned answered. "Walton, Lord Umber, make some working parties to assist the Lord Steward. Get Thoros and Dondarrion to help you organize them." After they agreed and left, Ned looked back to Bowen Marsh. "The men that are arriving will need hot food as well."

"Our dining hall is already overcrowded, my lord," Marsh answered, a worried frown on his face.

"We can open up a new mess hall in one of the old buildings," Ser Denys said. "It might be a bit rough at first, but we will make it as cozy as we can."

Ned said that would be fine and then the rest of the afternoon he spent helping prepare for his men coming up the Kingsroad. The snow got worse as the day dragged on and soon visibility was much reduced. A snow covered scout on horseback came in and reported that the men on the road had decided to make camp for the night about five miles short of the castle. They worried about getting caught in the storm in the dark. Ned didn't like it but could do nothing about it, the leaders of those men in the best position to decide what to do. Once they got fires going and tents set up they would be all right. He hoped.

When there was nothing left to do, Ned finally went to Thorne and the others and said it was time to talk. They had not supped yet but Ned wanted this out of the way first. He also sensed the impatience of the Night's Watch men to know what had happened when Ned had met Mance Rayder. As on the first night the men of the North and the Watch all crowded around the table in the dining hall, with Robb joining them this time. He had wanted Osha there too but changed his mind at the last moment, not wanting to give offense to the Watch by having a wildling sit on the council. Already Robb had reported to him that some Night's Watch men were grumbling about Osha having the run of the castle, saying she should be gutted or thrown from the top of the Wall. When Robb had advised her of this, she only laughed and said any man was welcome to try and do her harm.

After Ned finished telling them all about his conversation with Mance Rayder there was an outbreak of grumbling and shouted words.

"Never!" shouted Thorne, loudest of them all. "The Gift belongs to the Watch. They can rot on the other side of the Wall before they get one hide of land on this side."

"Yes," said Bowen Marsh. "The Gift is ours, not theirs."

"Half of the Gift was given by my ancestor and the other half by the realm, the Targaryens," Ned reminded them. "The realm may just as well take away their half and give it to the wildlings."

"King Stannis has no such power," Thorne said with a sneer on his lips.

"I know not," Ned admitted. "But if he so decides I think we would be wise not to go against him."

"What say you maester?" Thorne grunted at old blind Aemon. "Does he have the power to take away the Gift?"

"Perhaps," Maester Aemon said. "He sits the Iron Throne and the Iron Throne gave the Gift. As Lord Stark said, we would be foolish to challenge him if he does decide to give it or part of it to the wildlings."

Ned could see that Thorne did not like this answer by the look on his face. "Maybe King Stannis will reject Lord Stark's plan."

"We can only send a raven and await his word," Ned replied.

Ser Denys frowned. "I know King Stannis little but they say he is a hard man. He might think the wildlings deserve nothing but cold steel, from us or the Others."

Ned could only agree. "Aye, he may think so, this is true. He may think these wildlings deserve such punishment for their centuries of raiding. But even with all the strength of the North and the Watch we may not defeat the wildlings. Jon Snow says they number in the many thousands."

"A traitor's words," Thorne snarled.

"My brother is not a traitor!" Robb shouted down the table at Thorne.

"Enough!" Ned said strongly, looking from Robb to Thorne. "We will have no bickering."

There was a long moment of silence before Ned spoke again. "Perhaps asking King Stannis to settle this matter is not the best course of action after all. It will take almost half a moon's turn or more for a raven to fly to King's Landing and for an answer to come back. We don't have such time to waste. This storm is just the beginning. Soon the heavier snows will come. The Others will grow more powerful as we and the wildlings grow weaker. They need not worry on cold and hunger as we do. They will not stop until they or we are defeated."

His words had a sobering effect on the men at the table, and he could see worry on more than one face.

"The Wall was made to stop the Others," Maester Aemon suddenly said into the silence. "It will stop them."

Ser Denys sighed. "Tales from the Age of Heroes, maester. We know not what happened then for certain or how they really stopped the Others the last time."

"They did not stop the Others," Aemon said. "The Long Night they called it. There was snow and ice covering the land as far south as Dorne. The Others went where they wished and killed at will. The First Men almost perished before they could win back their lands and push the Others back North. There was no Wall last time the Others arose. That's why Lord Stark's ancestor built it. And it has kept them where they are still."

"Then let them stay there and let the wildlings deal with them," Thorne said and more than one person voiced their agreement. "Let us wash our hands of the lot of them."

"And what if the Wall does not stop them?" Ned growled in frustration. "Maester Aemon speaks truly perhaps but we know not for certain. We all have family to the south. Do you want to see your families dragged from their warm beds into the cold snow to be slaughtered? I say we must defeat the Others now, north of the Wall, while we still have the strength to do so. And to do that we need the help of the wildlings."

"Never will I fight alongside Mance Rayder or his ilk," Thorne said with hatred in his voice.

Others of the Watch agreed with him, while some agreed with Ned. He let them all have their say, until only Maester Aemon and Ser Denys remained.

Ser Denys took a deep breath. "I think we are forgetting one matter. If we agree with Lord Stark's plan, what do we do about Mance Rayder's treachery and desertion?"

"We kill him," Ser Alliser said immediately. "That is your duty as well, Lord Stark. As Warden of the North you are sworn to bring justice to deserters from the Watch."

"You need not remind me of my duties, ser," Ned retorted in a cold tone. "The matter of Mance Rayder's desertion should be put aside for the sake of our current needs. If he dies, his people will not join us. Especially not if we kill him."

"If he dies, they will scatter," Thorne said, obviously thinking this a good outcome of the matter.

The Greatjon pounded his fist on the table, rattling their cups and mugs. "Fool! Don't you see what peril we are in? I have no love for the wildlings and would gladly put them all to the sword but I do not want to see the Others at my castle gates either!"

Thorne and the Greatjon glared at each other and Ned feared an outburst of violence when Maester Aemon spoke.

"There is only one thing to do, my lords," he said and all turned to him.

"We are listening, Maester Aemon," Ned told him.

"We cannot wait for King Stannis' views on these matters," he began. "Still at present the Gift belongs to the Watch. As such we can dispose of the lands as we see fit. But it is clear the leaders of the Watch are divided in their opinions on what to do about the Gift and about Mance Rayder's desertion and treachery."

Suddenly Ned knew where he was going with this.

"We must have one commander, a new commander, for the whole of the Night's Watch," Maester Aemon advised them. "It is time to vote."

Ser Denys immediately agreed and so did Marsh and many others. Finally, Thorne reluctantly nodded his head.

"So be it," he said. "We begin on the morrow. Maester Aemon will see to the preparations."

"What is the procedure?" Ned asked.

"Anyone can nominate a candidate," Aemon replied. "Then we cast lots. There must be a two-thirds majority for the new commander to be chosen."

"A raven must be sent to Eastwatch," Bowen Marsh said. "Cotter Pyke should take soundings from his men and then come here to make their choice known."

"He should not leave his post in such troubled times," Thorne advised. "Many of his men are already here. They can cast the votes for Eastwatch."

"Perhaps Cotter Pyke will wish to be a candidate," Aemon said and Thorne gave him an evil look.

"I am sure he will," Ser Denys said. "We must give him a chance to at least make his wishes known before we begin to vote. He does not have to be here to be a candidate."

"Time is of importance," Ned reminded them. "Pyke is one of the most senior men of the Watch. Has he ever expressed a desire to be commander?"

"He has," Bowen Marsh said and even Thorne agreed he had.

"Then we should automatically add him to the candidate list," said Maester Aemon. "We will send him a raven when the storm passes. All other names of candidates must be given by midday tomorrow. Spread the word to the men so they can make their choices for possible candidates."

After that there was nothing left to do so Ned and Robb and their bannermen left the Night's Watch men alone. Outside now the storm was blowing strong and snow lashed their faces as they trudged their way across the courtyard. Ned told his commanders to see that their men were fed and had sufficient firewood and then he and Robb made their way to the armory. The two Winterfell men outside the doors were snow caked and half frozen so Ned told them to go off and rest and get their supper.

Once inside the armory they stamped their feet and brushed the snow off their clothing. Ned noticed the chill in the air and saw that the hearth and forge were cold.

"There is no armorer," he said aloud as he remembered this one vital position was still unfilled.

"Aye," Robb replied. "The Greatjon said he has no one to spare from his lands. I will sound the other lords out tomorrow."

"Perhaps someone from Eastwatch can come," Ned wondered. "But we need someone good."

"There is someone we already know is a good armorer," Robb answered. "From Winterfell."

"Aye, but your sister would only try to follow him and your mother would have her hide and ours as well."

Robb chuckled. "She would at that." Then he grew a bit serious. "But it may come to it."

Ned knew he was right. Every noble family of the north and even minor lords worth their salt had a smith in their castle or holdfast. But many of those were fit only for making nails and farm tools and hinges and shoeing a horse. Oh, they could beat the dents out of armor and nicks from a sword. But to make the armor and the sword or even a dagger took special skill.

"Maybe we could send for Mikken," Ned said, not wanting to drag Gendry away from Winterfell, not to here, where so much could happen.

Robb nodded. "Aye, 'tis a better plan."

Robb moved to a pile of wood by the hearth and started to stack wood inside and then found some flint and tinder and set to making a fire. Ned went to the back door and listened to see if Jon was asleep or not. What he heard was the sound of people talking, two men and…a woman's voice as well.

Ned opened the door and got a small shock. Sitting in the chair he had been in last night by the fire in the hearth was a young woman, with brown hair and eyes. She wore the furs of the wildlings and her top was opened and a babe was at her teat. She looked up in surprise and her eyes widened in shock. Then Sam Tarly's head came around the door.

"Lord Stark," he said with a dip of his head and he opened the door wider.

Ned stepped into the room and felt the warmth of the fire right away. Jon was sitting up on his bed, an empty bowl and cup beside his bed on the small table. Ghost was on his bed, at the foot, and Grey Wind was on the floor, next to the chair with the girl and her babe. When Ned entered Grey Wind got up and went out into the armory where Robb greeted his pet. Sam closed the door after Grey Wind had left.

"Father," Jon said. "This is Gilly and her son."

She started to rise from her chair but Ned motioned her to stay. "I should go, I am disturbing you."

"Not at all, my lord," Sam said. "I just brought Jon's supper and Gilly…well, she…she came too. It's safer if she stays by my side. If you know what I mean."

Jon explained it. "Some of the men have been eyeing her…and not in a kind way. Thorne and Marsh are not happy about her being here, saying it is no good having a woman among so many men. But as yet they have not decided what to do about it."

"Too busy with other worries I suspect," Ned replied. He looked at the girl. "Gilly, is it?"

"Aye…my lord," she said. Ned now remembered part of Sam's tale about coming through the Wall with a wildling girl. He did not question him very closely on that, more concerned about Jon at the time. Now she was here and was a source of some tensions. The men of the Watch took oaths to never lay with a woman. But as Jon and many others had proven over the years saying the words was easier than living up to them. They could send her and her babe away, maybe back to her own kind. But then Ned remembered she was one of Craster's daughters…and his wife as well. Maybe the other wildlings would shun her. Then Ned had an idea of what to do.

"There is one of the free folk in service to my house," he told Gilly. "Osha she is named. I will send for her and she will come and take you and your babe and find you proper quarters. She will also protect you."

Gilly and Sam both seem stunned at this pronouncement. "Lord Stark, if it is too much trouble…" Sam began but Ned cut him off.

"After what you have done for Jon, it is a debt I owe."

Sam smiled and dipped his head. "Thank you, my lord."

"Thank you," Gilly said as well. She did not add 'my lord' and Ned knew it was because she was not used to doing so, not out of disrespect.

Ned opened the door to the armory. "Robb, find Osha and bring her here."

He looked puzzled but did not question him. "Aye, Father, right away."

Ned turned back to Sam. "Come outside with me. We need have words. Alone."

Jon wanted to get out of bed to join them but Ned told him to rest. Out in the armory it was getting warmer from the fire Robb had started.

"How can I help you, my lord?" Sam asked in a nervous tone.

"How did a wildling girl and her babe come to be with you? Tell me it all."

Sam took a deep breath and began. "She's one of Craster's daught…wives. The babe is his. I first met her when she was with child still, when we marched to the Fist of the First Men. We stopped back there when we retreated. She had her babe then. I…I took them from Craster's after my brothers killed Lord Commander Mormont. The older ones, Gilly's mother maybe, they told me to take her and the baby. They said Craster's sons were coming...they meant the Others and the wights. Craster gave the baby boys to them. I think they meant the boys turned into wights. So I left with her and the babe. I could not leave them with those brutes that killed the commander. Or the wights."

"Aye, you said some of this when we first met. But how did you get away from the Others and the wights? How did you pass through the Wall?"

"We had help," Sam told him.

Ned felt a sudden tightening in his chest. "Was it a man of the Night's Watch? A Ranger?"

"He…he might have been…once."

"Explain," Ned demanded.

"He wore black like a man of the Watch. But he never told us his name, or where he came from. We never saw his full face. But he was dressed all in black and he rode a big elk and had some ravens that followed him and did as he commanded."

"An Other? A wight?"

"His eyes were black, not blue," Sam said. "And his hands…they were so cold…like ice…that's why we called him Coldhands."

"How did he help you?"

"He drove off the wights when they attacked us. He led us to the Wall and to a secret passage under it at the Nightfort. The Black Gate he called it. I said the words of the Night's Watch vow and it opened and we went through, me and Gilly and her babe. He could not pass though the Wall he said."

"Why not?"

"Because of its magic. His words, my lord, not mine."

Magic. There it was. Some supernatural being was telling Sam Tarly he could not cross the Wall because of magic. This was some proof of what Maester Aemon believed.

"Have you told Maester Aemon, Ser Denys, and Ser Alliser all of this?"

"Yes, my lord."

"I suppose Ser Alliser said you were mad, Ser Denys wanted to believe you but wouldn't say so, and Maester Aemon accepted all you said as the truth."

Sam looked surprised. "Just as you said my lord."

"Is there anything else you can tell me about Coldhands?"

Sam shook his head. "No…except he saved us. And he never said why. He was just there at the right time and place. I know Gilly and her babe and I would be dead now, or worse, without his help."

"Sam…did you know my brother Benjen?"

"I was only here a few days before he went ranging, so no, my lord, I can't say as I did know him."

"But you saw him at least."

"But once and we never had words, my lord."

"Do you think…Coldhands…could it be Benjen?"

Sam's eyes got a bit wide. "Ah…I…I think…maybe not. I mean, how could it be?"

Ned sighed. "You are right. Just wishful thinking."

Sam's face grew serious. "My lord, if it was my brother out there, I would not wish that fate for him. Coldhands looked dead and smelled of death, yet he spoke and he moved like a man alive. But even if he is your brother, my lord, he is no longer a man. Not the man you knew."

"Aye," Ned said, knowing Sam was right. Just then Robb returned with Osha. Sam gulped when he saw her and Ned was reminded that she had been the one to drag Sam off his horse and bring him by spear point to Ned's campfire on the Kingsroad.

"Lord Stark," Osha said with a slight dip of her head as Robb moved to warm his hands by the fire, Grey Wind at his heels, shaking the snow from his fur.

"Osha, you remember Sam?"

"Aye," she said. "The big black brother who shook like a little girl when I had my spear at his back."

"That's not fair," Sam said with some anger. "You knocked me off my horse and near impaled me! Any man would shake."

"Any man wouldn't have been knocked off his horse," she retorted.

"Let it be," Ned told them. "Osha, we need you to do something."

"Aye, I'm listening."

Ned quickly explained it all and by her face he knew she did not like it. "I'm no wet nurse," she growled. "I'm a spear woman."

"You'll be protecting her from the spears of the men in this castle," Ned told her and then she laughed and Robb did as well and so did Sam. Ned finally saw the unintended joke in his words and chuckled as well.

"As you wish, my lord," Osha said. "But this better not mean I'm left out of the fighting."

"I am sure there will be plenty of fighting for all before this is over," Ned replied heavily.

In a few moments, Gilly, her babe, Sam and Osha were heading out the door into the storm, the babe wrapped up tight in a bundle of furs.

After that Robb and Ned settled into Jon's room and they talked on many things. After a bit the issue of an armorer came up again.

"Why not that fellow at Winterfell?" Jon said. "The one Arya is in love with."

"She would follow him to the Wall," Robb said with a bit of a laugh. "And then my mother would skin us all alive."

"She must be in love," Jon said with a grin. "What about him? Gendry, is it? Does he feel the same for her?"

"Aye," Ned answered. "The boy said as much to Lady Stark when she confronted him."

Jon snorted. "I am sure she wanted to banish this bastard as well even though he is King Robert's son."

Suddenly the mood in the room grew somber. Ned saw the pain in Jon's face as he said that word Arya hated so much and Ned was growing to hate as well. What could he say to Jon to make his pain any less? He would know the truth eventually, that Catelyn had accepted Gendry, although reluctantly. At least he could tell him the truth of this matter.

"Aye, at first," said Ned quietly. "She was reluctant to have him come to Winterfell. But Gendry has served us well and has proven his loyalty and worth to our house. She has come to terms with Arya's love for this boy…man, despite his birth, their age difference, and his low station in life. Someday they will be man and wife, if the gods are kind to them and us."

"And if the Frey's turn a blind eye," Robb added.

"There is that to worry on," Ned agreed. "But that is not something we need concern ourselves for now."

Jon was silent, and Ned knew he was thinking on all his years of pain at the hands of Lady Stark because of what he was. If only he could have told them all the truth, the real truth of his birth, none of this would have happened. But it was too late for that now.

"At least she is happy," Jon said finally.

"Aye, she is," Ned told him.

"Mother wanted me to say thank you to you, Jon," Robb said suddenly and Ned knew not what he was talking about.

Jon was equally surprised. "Thank you? For what?"

"For Needle. For saving Arya's life.'

Jon blushed a bit. "I did not save her. She did that herself."

"True," said Ned. "But if you had not given her Needle I would not have hired a man to teach her and she would not have been able to save her own life. So let's leave it at that and thank the gods all worked out for the best."

After that Ned and Robb were feeling hungry and decided it was time to eat their supper. They bid good night to Jon with one final admonishment to stay in bed.

Outside the snow was still falling, steady now, but there was no wind so it was not blowing in their faces. Ned stopped Robb on the steps of the armory.

"Did your mother really tell you to tell him that?"

"No…but I think she wanted to and could not say the words."

"Aye…I had the same feeling as well."

"We should send them a raven to tell them we have arrived," Robb said. "And to ask for an armorer."

"We'll take care if it when the storm passes." He looked back at the door to the armory. "I need to set new guards for Jon."

"Ghost is with him. He needs no guards."

"A better guard we could not ask for. Let us get our supper."

But it was not to be. They were almost at the dining hall when Ser Denys came out of the shadows from the direction of the Wall and the winch cage.

"My lords, there is trouble in the haunted forest," he said and then quickly explained that a message was sent down from the Wall that there seemed to be battle off in the forest.

"Who is fighting?" Ned asked immediately.

"We know not," Ser Denys said. "But more than likely the Others are attacking the wildlings."

The cage was at the bottom and the rise to the top of the Wall seemed to take forever. When they got there Ned felt a sudden chill, as if the air got so much colder as it blew from the north side of the Wall. Thorne and many other men were looking off to the forest. Ned and Robb and Ser Denys joined them. They could see many sparks of flame through the driving snow, and one part of the forest seemed on fire.

"What news, Ser Alliser?" Ned asked.

"Seems your plans to join forces with the wildlings have come to naught, Lord Stark. We are too late."

He handed Ned the Myrish eye glass and Ned looked. Now he saw more clearly but still it was difficult in the falling snow and darkness. The fires were to the west and north of where they suspected the main wildling camp was. The fires were spread apart in a semi circle to the northwest for the most part. Now Ned saw some large hulking figures in the trees. Giants perhaps. Then he saw smaller figures running, many of them with fire in their hands, most likely torches.

And then he saw…he knew not. For a brief moment he thought he saw something in the glare of a torch…something moving like a man, but it seemed very whitish, as if it wore no clothing at all. It moved away from the flame of the torch and then the scene was lost from view. Although he could not be certain, Ned Stark believed he had just had his first glimpse of an Other.

Now Ned could hear sounds as well. He passed the eye glass to Robb and he listened. He heard screaming and the sounds of swords clashing.

And then came a long blast from a horn.

"One blast," said big Grenn, standing nearby with a bow in his hands. "Men of the Watch returning."

"There are none of our men out there," said Ser Denys.

Then came another long blast.

"Two blasts," said the one they called Pyp. "Wildlings."

Then came the third blast, and it was long and forlorn sounding and it pierced Ned like a knife. He knew what that meant from his many conversations with Benjen.

"Others," said Ned and no one disagreed with him.

"It must be Mance Rayder," Ser Denys said suddenly. "He knows our signals. He is asking for help."

Ser Alliser snorted. "They will all die before one drop of our black blood is spilled to help them."

Ned knew not what took hold of him but suddenly he grabbed Ser Alliser by the front of his black furs and shook him roughly. "Those are people out there, real people, not some animals waiting to be slaughtered!"

"Let go of me Lord Stark or my men will arrest you!" Thorne snarled.

"I ought to throw you off the Wall!"

He could do it, too. It would be so easy and it would solve many of their problems. For a moment Ned was ready to do it and Thorne's eyes showed him that he knew Ned might just carry out his threat. They were wide with fear and horror. Ned was not much bigger than Thorne but he was younger and stronger. And he also knew many of these men around him despised Thorne for what he had done to Jon.

But then Ser Denys was on one of his arms and Robb on the other, trying to pull him away from Thorne. "Let it be, Father!" Robb whispered fiercely and Ned slowly let Thorne go.

The two enemies stared at each other as all the others watched them.

"There is naught we can do for them anyway," Thorne began in a low but steady voice. "The cage can hold but ten men at a time. The tunnel is blocked and will take a day or more to unblock. We could never get enough men there in time to make a difference. Any we send by the cage would be slaughtered as well."

"He speaks true," Ser Denys said, his voice heavy with regret. "They are on their own."

"Aye," Ned replied heavily, knowing the wildlings were now on their own. As he turned his eyes back to the forest, the fires seemed to grew higher, the sounds of screaming and the clash of arms seemed to grow louder, and the sounds of the horn came again, three blasts. They all stood there, helpless as babes to help fellow humans against the icy, cold-hearted legends now walking the world once more. The Long Night was beginning again, Ned feared, and soon it would be their turn to face the horrors that awaited them out there in the wild beyond the Wall.


	6. Chapter 6 Hot Pie

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 6 Hot Pie**

Not for the first time did Hot Pie regret his decision to stay at Harrenhal and not go north to Winterfell with Arya and Gendry and the others. At first it wasn't so bad, when Lord Tywin was still here and kept control over everyone. It was always warm in the kitchens and there was plenty of food as well. He had a warm blanket and a straw pallet in a sleeping niche behind the kitchens. No one treated him badly, except once or twice the old woman who was the head cook, one of Lady Whent's people, got angry when he ate too many pastries that were supposed to be for the lord's table. But all she did was just hit him with a big wooden spoon. His mother had done that plenty of times when he was growing up. But then Lord Tywin and most of his men left and things changed for the worse.

First, they took most of the food with them, only leaving enough for the small garrison and the servants for just a month or two. Right away the one in charge, ser something or another, he cut back rations for everyone and they all had to tighten their belts. Then one day a large group of Lannister men came in the main gate. It was Ser Amory Lorch come back from chasing Vargo Hoat. At least that's what the old blacksmith Lucan said when Hot Pie brought him and his apprentices their meager breakfast one morning.

Hot Pie hoped they had killed the Goat but rumors said he got away and that made Hot Pie mad. The Goat's men had killed Lommy Greenhands, Hot Pie's friend from King's Landing. His only friend really, until he met Arya and Gendry. Burying Lommy in that village was one of the hardest things Hot Pie had ever done. Harder than even taking care of his mum when she got sick and soon died. Harder than living on the streets of King's Landing for months after those men came and took away his cart and his mum's shop and oven cause they said she owned them money.

They had shoved a piece of parchment in his face and said his mother had borrowed money she never paid back and they owned the bakery now and he could piss off. Hot Pie couldn't read, didn't know what the words said. He had planned on keeping the shop going himself. He knew how to bake and everyone loved his cakes and pastries and bread. He even pleaded with them to let him stay on and be the baker but they just laughed and kicked him out with only the clothes on his back and not a copper in his pockets.

He had been terrified at first, living on the streets, hungry, always looking over his shoulder, being harassed and shoved and pushed aside by those bigger and stronger than he was. Some boys tried to rob him but he had nothing to take so they just shoved his face in the dirt and let him be. Before long a kind soul told him there was sometimes bread given to the poor at the septs, but it wasn't often and there were too many poor there who wanted a crust of bread. He got one crust of bread at a sept one day but he had to fight for that and swore to never go back.

Not long after that his hunger led him to steal. It was near night time near the market by the Mud Gate and the fishmongers were closing up shop for the day. He saw a small fish fall off a cart and without even thinking he bent and scooped it up and ran as the fishmonger shouted at him. Hot Pie was still fat and slow and weak from lack of food and knew he would never have gotten away if it hadn't been for Lommy Greenhands.

Lommy had been nearby also, thinking of stealing some fish for himself, and had seen what had happened. As soon as the fishmonger ran after Hot Pie Lommy swept down on his cart and grab two big fish in his green hands and ran. The fishmonger had seen this and turned and went after Lommy, who was much faster and knew all the secret ways in and around the alleys near the Mud Gate.

Hot Pie was sitting in a dark corner of an alley, thinking on how to cook his little fish when Lommy found him.

"That's just a little one," he said to Hot Pie. He held up his two big fish. "I did better."

Hot Pie gulped. "Hello. I'm…I'm Hot Pie."

"Hot Pie? I wish I had one of them. Is that your real name?"

"Yes…I mean, I don't rightly remember my name. My mum and the folks in our street always called me Hot Pie cause I pushed our cart and yelled 'hot pies for sale'. So…I'm Hot Pie."

"I'm Lommy Greenhands. Come on, we best go before the gold cloaks come. I know a place we can cook up these beauties."

Hot Pie followed him deeper into the labyrinth of alleys and side streets. They hid their fish under their clothing cause they didn't want anyone to rob them as well. In the growing darkness they made their way to a long narrow alley. Lommy came to a small opening at eye level and knocked three times, paused, and knocked two more. A set of eyes came to the opening, saw them, and then to Hot Pie's surprise a door opened where there was no door. It was cleverly concealed with paint to look like the wall.

They entered a dark room and then a boy no older than Hot Pie or Lommy was there, holding a candle. They followed him and went to the back of the room through another doorway. Soon they were going down passageways, and down stairs and before long Hot Pie felt it getting colder and wondered why and Lommy said they were below street level.

They ended their journey at a large room that was mostly dark. The one source of light was a candle on small table. Someone was sitting behind it. Hot Pie sensed some others around them in the darkness but could not see anyone.

"What you got?" said the person at the table. He had an older voice, almost like a man.

"Fish," said Lommy. "Nice big ones."

They stepped into the room and then Lommy took his fish out and Hot Pie did the same.

"Who's this?" said the older voice, and now Hot Pie could see it was from an older boy, thin, with very red hair and a scraggly mustache.

"He's called Hot Pie," Lommy said and that brought snickers of laughter from the darkness.

"More like Fat Pie," said a girl's voice from behind them. Hot Pie knew his face was red and was glad it was so dark. All his life he had been teased for being fat. Plump, his mother had called him, but that was just a nice way to say he was fat. It was his own fault, he knew, but he loved the taste of cakes and bread and pies, and had a chance to eat some every day.

"We ain't got food enough for a fat boy like him," said the older boy.

"He helped me steal the fish," Lommy told him. Hot Pie was about to protest this version of events but held his tongue.

There was silence for a moment as the older boy thought on this. "All right," he finally said. "He can stay…tonight."

Hot Pie knew he had to say something, knew he had to do something to let him stay longer cause he knew he would die out there on the streets by himself. "I was a baker's apprentice. I can bake anything."

"We ain't got no oven or flour, baker's boy," said the leader as he stood. "You find a way to make us bread or even flat bread, you can stay anytime you like. I'm Red Jonny, by the by. Just call me Red. We got but two rules here. You work, you steal, you provide, or you don't stay or eat. Rule two. You tell the gold cunts where we is, we gut you." He took a long wicked looking dagger from his belt to emphasis the point.

"I ain't no rat," Hot Pie said, his voice trembling a bit.

"Too bad," said a small boy nearby the table, his eyes big as he looked at the fish. "Rat's taste good."

That brought a round of laughter and even Red cracked a smile. "So does fish. All right, let's get cooking."

More candles were lit and now Hot Pie saw there were about ten or twelve of them, all young, boys and girls, all street children, ragged and dirty and thin. They brought out apples, and bread, and a jug of ale, and some potatoes and other things Hot Pie hadn't eaten in many days. They had two braziers with coals on them and lit them. A flat pan was placed on one. Lommy gutted the fish and fileted them and threw them in the pan. A girl was peeling the potatoes and putting them in pot of water.

"I can make potato cakes from them. Fish cakes too if you give me some fish to mix in," Hot Pie told Red.

Red looked him over. "Give it a try. But don't waste no food."

Hot Pie made potato and fish cakes and they all loved them and after that he had a place to stay at night. He and Lommy started working as a team and would steal whatever they could, mostly food. One day they stole a bag of flour and for a while Hot Pie made flat bread for them all while the flour lasted.

One day Red wasn't there and one of the girls said the gold cloaks caught him trying to lift a merchant's purse. Two days later they saw Red dangling from a rope on a gallows outside the Red Keep.

Hot Pie was scared after that but he was hungry as well and so they continued to steal. And then one day they got caught.

It was his fault, as Lommy kept reminding him while they sat in their cell awaiting judgment. Hot Pie didn't see the gold cloaks cause they weren't there when he went to steal the apples off a cart. But as soon as he laid hands on them and started running, two gold cloaks came out of a nearby tavern and saw him right away. Meanwhile Lommy had come up to take some apples from the other side of the cart while the merchant was supposed to be distracted by Hot Pie and he got seen as well. The gold cloaks chased them both and for once caught them both.

"We's just hungry!" Hot Pie squealed as they dragged him to the Red Keep. Lommy kept silent and gave him a dirty look and Hot Pie knew to keep his mouth shut after that. They were thrown into a big cell with some other criminals, older men. Lommy and Hot Pie crawled to a corner and sat there, both scared, but trying not to let on they were. After a bit one of the others came to them.

"What you do?" he asked. He was dirty and smelled like a sewer.

"Stole some apples," Hot Pie said, his voice almost a squeak.

"And killed a man!" Lommy boasted in a loud voice quickly to cover up Hot Pie's squeak. "I knocked him down and Hot Pie kicked him in the balls till he was dead!"

"Yeah…yeah!" said Hot Pie loudly, embracing the lie. "I kicked him all to pieces!"

Some laughter came from the other men. "Right. The apple stealing killers," said the first man. "Then it's the rope for you two."

Hot Pie gulped. "What?"

"They hang killers. And thieves sometimes, too. But they always hang thieves who are killers. Won't be long. You wait and see. It's the rope for you two."

Hot Pie was terrified that first night and when the cell door opened and their breakfast of mushed oats and weak ale was given to them Hot Pie thought it was his last meal ever. But no one came for him and Lommy or any other prisoner that day or the next or even the next. One day stretched into five. In fact, none of the prisoners was taken to be tried or question or anything. Some of the older ones who had been in trouble before said it was odd, but not that odd. King Robert's justice would get them all in the end.

Finally, on the sixth morning the gaoler who brought their food and emptied the piss bucket said King Robert was dead and Lord Stark had tried to take the throne from Joffrey and now he was in a cell down here as well. The men talk on that for a few more days as they waited to see what would happen. Finally, one day when they were starting to wonder where their food was, a man from the Night's Watch came into the cell.

Hot Pie and Lommy had joined up right away as did many others. Anything to get out of that cell and get away for the rope that was waiting for most of them.

Then to all their surprise Lord Stark was going with them. So was a little lumpy-headed boy who turned out to be a girl, not a boy. She was Arya Stark, the lord's daughter. And there was also a big boy they called the Bull at first and later knew him as Gendry.

So began more adventures, and they did not end well. The road north was full of dangers. Lommy died and so did many others, Yoren, the Night's Watch man, included. During the battle at the holdfast by the lake Hot Pie had fought with a gold cloak and then Arya and Gendry had killed him. Now Arya and Gendry were gone and Hot Pie was still at Harrenhal when Ser Amory Lorch came to take command.

Ser Amory had brought plenty of wagons filled with plunder and food with him and Hot Pie thought things would go back to normal. But no, that food was for Ser Amory and his men and the garrison, not for the likes of some lowly baker's boy or the other servants. They were lucky to get a heel of stale bread and a half a bowl of mushy porridge for their one meal a day. Meanwhile, the Lannister knight and his men feasted every night on great piles of food. Of course, working in the kitchens Hot Pie and the other workers could steal food if they were quick. But Lorch put some men in the kitchens to keep an eye on them. One spit boy who got caught stealing a piece of fish had one of his finger chopped off as a lesson to the rest of them.

Then came news of terrible battles around King's Landing and how half the city was burnt and half the people were dead and Hot Pie counted himself lucky not to have been there. The rumors said Joffrey was dead and a new king, King Stannis, was in charge now. But Lucan the blacksmith also said that Joffrey's brother Tommen was calling himself king as well and the Lannisters weren't defeated yet.

Soon after that came a new lord, the Imp they called him, Lord Tyrion Lannister, and within a day Lorch was dead and they had a new commander. More rumors flew, about how the Imp had confronted Lorch and how the sellsword Bronn had killed Lorch when Lorch tried to kill the Imp. Hot Pie knew the Imp and Bronn from the village where Lommy had died. The Imp had been good to them there and Hot Pie hoped things would get better again. At least he increased the servant's rations. But it wasn't by much and soon everyone was on reduced rations, even Lord Tyrion and his men.

Hot Pie came to the Imp's quarters with his evening meal that first night after the black haired pretty girl called Shae, who everyone said was the Imp's whore, had come to the kitchens and demanded food for her hungry lord. Hot Pie knew she was his really his whore cause when they had traveled with the Imp to Harrenhal Gendry had seen her go into the Imp's tent one night. He told Hot Pie and Arya this as they rode their donkeys up the east side of Gods Eye toward Harrenhal.

"Maybe she's just his servant," Arya had said and Gendry shook his head.

"No, he called for his bed warmer," Gendry replied. "Your father said he meant a woman. I guess she's it."

"It don't mean she takes money for doing it," Hot Pie said.

"That's right," Arya had added. "Maybe they are in love."

Gendry laughed and she scowled at him. "They could be!"

"Maybe," Gendry said. "If she doesn't take his coin, she must be in love with him."

Arya calmed down after that but Hot Pie thought Gendry meant something more. That the Imp was so ugly that no woman would bed him unless she loved him or took his coin. Maybe he meant that.

The Imp was ugly, no doubt about it. But at Harrenhal he was kind enough to tell Hot Pie about Arya and Gendry when he asked. He was surprised when Hot Pie told him Gendry really liked her a lot.

Hot Pie had noticed something changed in the way Gendry and Arya talked to each other the night after Gendry told them he was King Robert's son. At first Hot Pie was too tired to care about it but the next morning as they took down their tent, he suddenly realized he was with a king's son.

"Just a bastard son," Gendry had said in a low voice. They were surrounded by Lannister men and the wild men of the Vale and they had been warned by Lord Stark and the Imp not to talk to the other men except Bronn and the Imp's squire Podrick.

"Don't call yourself that," Arya had admonished him. Then she looked at him in a strange way, like she suddenly saw him in a different light. Hot Pie thought it was because he was a king's son that she now seemed to like Gendry more. At Harrenhal she still fought with him and punched him, and called him stupid, but Hot Pie sensed they were growing closer. Every day she went to the armory and they came and got breakfast together and they spent more time together than with him.

One day as he and Gendry were sitting outside the kitchens in the warm sunlight, Hot Pie peeling some apples for the pies, and Gendry sharpening the kitchen's knives on a whetstone, Arya came along and started chatting with them. He watched Gendry's face and he brightened when she came to them and she sat and helped Hot Pie peel the apples for a while. She went on about Winterfell and about the people there and talked about the North and on and on. Then she had to go cause Lord Tywin's servant came and said there was a raven message for her from her father who was still at Riverrun negotiating the peace.

After she left Gendry's face fell a bit and he took one of the knives and angrily stuck it in the ground.

"Hey! That's a good carving knife!"

"Sorry," Gendry replied. He took the knife out of the ground and wiped it off with an oily cloth.

"What's the matter?"

His face had that stubborn look Hot Pie had seen a few times already. "Nothing."

He started sharpening the knives again and Hot Pie could see he was still angry.

"Raven message…from her father, Lord Stark," Gendry suddenly said. "You ever get a raven message?"

Hot Pie laughed. "Course not."

"Me neither."

They were silent for a minute. "I can't even read or write," Gendry said.

"Me neither," Hot Pie answered as he picked up another apple from the barrel and started peeling it. "But I can do sums."

"Yes. Me, too. Lot of good it does us."

Then Hot Pie seemed to understand something. "I like Arya."

Gendry smiled a bit. "So do I. She's…different. Not like them high born ladies came in my master's shop in King's Landing. All dressed up and with perfume on and looking at me like I was some piece of dirt on the ground."

"I never been close to a real lady," Hot Pie told him. "Except my mum."

"Your mum was a lady?" Gendry asked in puzzlement.

"No…I mean…she was my mum…so to me she was a lady."

Gendry smiled. "That sounds right." Then his smile fell. "She dead?"

"Yes," Hot Pie said sadly. "Yours too?"

"When I was seven. I never knew who my father was. Until now."

"My father died when I was little. He was a baker. I don't remember him much."

"My father was a drunk," Gendry said, anger in his voice.

"And a king," Hot Pie said quietly.

"Some king. Drunk more often than not and he lay with every woman he could. Lord Stark said there are more like me out there. I have a brother at Storm's End and a sister in the Vale. Maybe more. I'll never be like him. I'll wed her and give her lots of children and never leave them. That's what a father should do."

"Wed who?"

His face turned a bit red. "Nevermind. It can never be so nevermind. I'm stupid to think on it."

Then Hot Pie knew who he meant. "Arya?"

Gendry had turned bright red now and stumbled over his words. "Don't be daft! She's just a girl!"

"Some day a woman."

"She's a lady and I'm low born."

"No, you're not. You're a king's son."

Gendry looked around with a worried look. "Don't be saying that so loud! Look, Arya is my friend, our friend. Now. But when we get to Winterfell it'll all be different no matter what she says. She'll be Lady Stark and you and I will be smallfolk along with everyone else who isn't a Stark or some other lordly family. If either of us even talks to her there some knight will stick a spear up our arse!"

Hot Pie winced, thinking on that. "Maybe you're right." They were silent for a bit. "Is it far to Winterfell?"

Gendry nodded. "Arya said it's more than twice what we've come so far since King's Landing. Maybe three times as far. She said it took them almost a moon's turn to go from Winterfell to King's Landing."

That's when Hot Pie began to think on staying at Harrenhal. The thought of that long ride north made him tired already. Even though the old woman who ran the kitchens was hard on him sometimes, she said he was a good baker and could use him and asked him to stay on when she heard he might be leaving with Lord Stark. Hot Pie told her he'd think on it and she let it be for now.

The next day after that talk Hot Pie had with Gendry, he showed up alone to get the morning breakfast for the armory. "Where's Arya?"

"She's mad at me," he said with a downcast look.

"Why?" Hot Pie asked as he filled the basket with bread for the armory.

Gendry looked around at the busy kitchen and shook his head, "Not important. Say…make up a small basket for Arya. I'll take it to her."

"Thought she was mad at you?"

He had that stubborn look again. "She'll be hungry. Get some bacon, too. Tell them it's for Lady Stark."

That night just before sunset he found Gendry outside the armory washing his arms of the coal dust in a water trough. "She still mad at you?"

He grinned. "No." And he said no more.

Soon after that Arya's sister Sansa and another Winterfell girl showed up in Harrenhal with the King's sister and a big man with an ugly burned face that Gendry called the Hound. Arya hated him, Hot Pie knew. She had told them the story of how her direwolf had bit Joffrey and how she had thrown his sword in the river. And then the Hound had killed her friend who was a butcher's boy.

Then Lord Stark returned. One day soon after Hot Pie saw Gendry and he seemed on top of the world he was grinning so much.

"What's happened now?" Hot Pie asked him.

"Lord Stark said Arya is betrothed to someone called Frey."

"Oh," said Hot Pie, confused. "I guess…that is good…for her. Is that why you are happy? For her?"

"No," he said and then it all came out, how Arya had confronted him, how he admitted he had feelings for her, how she was scared at first, and then later said they should forget about it, pretend they never talked about it. Then Lord Stark found out.

"Gods!" Hot Pie said quietly, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "Is he going to punish you?"

"No! He's on my side!"

"That's good! But…she's betrothed. Isn't she?"

"She hates it, Lord Stark said. Said she would run away first."

"That's not good."

"No…but…he told me she likes me too!"

Hot Pie laughed, glad his friend was happy. Then he had a bad thought. "She's high born."

Gendry's face fell and Hot Pie felt bad but there it was. "Yes…she is," Gendry said quietly.

"Sorry."

"No…there is naught we can do about that. I guess…I don't know what will happen. Maybe I'm just being stupid. Maybe I should forget about her."

No, no one knew what would happen, that's for sure, Hot Pie knew. Half a year ago Hot Pie could never have imagined doing what he was doing now or what he had done. Hot Pie had seen people die. He had seen his mum die. He had seen Lommy die, and had buried him. He had been kicked out of the home he had known all his life, kicked out into the streets, had become a thief, had been arrested, had been forced to join the Night's Watch to save his life, had fought in battles, and had even helped kill a man.

And then it was time for Hot Pie to decide his future. The more Hot Pie thought on it the more he did not want to go on the road again. Harrenhal was safe and comfortable for the most part. He had a warm bed and food. The road would be dangerous, cold, and maybe there would be no food. Or at least not much. Besides, Winterfell was cold even in the summer. Hot Pie had been born and had lived in King's Landing all his life. He was used to being warm. And winter was coming, as he heard Lord Stark say more than once. That decided it for him. He would stay in Harrenhal.

Arya came to them after supper one night soon after her father had returned from Riverrun and told them they would leave the next day. Hot Pie knew he had to tell Arya and Gendry, now.

"I don't think I'm coming," he told them quickly before he lost his courage.

They looked at him in surprise. "You're coming," Arya said as if that was the final word.

"No...sorry…just, I'm tired of running. I just want to stay here."

"You're coming!" Arya said again, louder and then she just turned on her heel in anger and walked to the tower where she was staying.

Gendry looked at him and shook his head. "You should come with us."

"Sorry," was all Hot Pie could say. He felt bad but he still wanted to stay..

"I'm tired of running, too," Gendry told him. "But I'm still going."

"You got a reason to go. Her."

He blushed. "Yes. But…there's still war here. Still Lannisters in charge. It'll be safer in the North."

"And colder."

Gendry laughed a bit. "That too. Maybe sleep will help you think on it more."

Hot Pie shook his head. "I don't think so. Good night."

When it came time for them to leave the next morning, he could see Arya was still mad. She pleaded with him to go, and finally when he refused she said he couldn't break his promise to a lord. But her father said Hot Pie had made no such promise. Finally, she just punched his arm and told him to be good and she walked away. Gendry was not happy either but he shook Hot Pie's hand with his big strong right hand and wished him well. Lord Stark was kindest of all, telling him he always had a place in Winterfell if he wanted. That almost made Hot Pie choke up, the kindness of this man who was one of the great lords of the Seven Kingdoms. Hot Pie wished he had a father like Lord Stark.

And then they were gone and soon everything went bad and for the first time he wished he had gone with them. But it wasn't the last time he thought that.

Soon the Hound and Princess Myrcella left with a large group of soldiers. And then the one they called the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane, came in with Vargo Hoat on a rope and Hot Pie was happy to see the Goat brought to his knees. They could hear the Goat's screams as the Mountain tortured him for several days and nights. Each time the Goat screamed Hot Pie felt it was justice for Lommy and all the other smallfolk the Goat and his men had done harm to.

But Hot Pie's opinion of the Mountain changed when the Imp and Bronn and Podrick and Shae and many more left. They put Ser Gregor Clegane in charge and then the terror began.

The first day after the Imp left Ser Gregor's little band of loyal men began acting like lords themselves, demanding the best food and wine and taking whatever woman they wanted to their beds. Ser Gregor did nothing to stop them and the Lannister men left behind did nothing also. One of Lady Whent's oldest servants went to the Mountain to say that at this rate the food stocks would soon disappear. The Mountain agreed and reduced rations for all except his own little band of loyal followers. Then he had the servant hung by neck from the main gate for having the nerve to tell him the truth. After that no one spoke to Ser Gregor unless they absolutely had to.

More incidents followed, with fights between the Mountain's men and the Lannister men settled with swords and daggers. When one of the Lannister men killed one of Ser Gregor's, Ser Gregor killed the Lannister man with one blow from his massive sword. After that none of the Lannister men challenged Ser Gregor's.

The old maester of Harrenhal was the next to feel the Mountain's wrath. Hot Pie and the rest heard the whispers about the Mountain's headaches. When he slept no one was to make any noise or disturb him in any way. They also heard how he drank milk of the poppy like it was wine or ale. Soon the maester's supply of milk of the poppy ran out and Ser Gregor had the maester put in the stocks for three days as punishment for failing to keep a bigger supply. His men taunted the maester, saying they were going to cut his nose off and gut him and feed him to the monsters everyone said lived in Gods Eye. They got drunk and threw horse dung at him and then threw his own foulness at him when the maester could not longer control his bowels. After three days of this Ser Gregor released him and told Lucan and some other big men to take him to the bathhouse as he stank so much. The maester got down on his knees and thank him and begged him for forgiveness. For that Ser Gregor gave him a hard kick and the maester said no more as they dragged him senseless to the bathhouse. Later Lucan the blacksmith said they would probably have killed the maester but he didn't think Ser Gregor or any of his men could read and write.

After the milk of the poppy ran out Ser Gregor raged and went about the castle in a terribly foul mood, striking anyone who moved too slow or made too much noise for his likely. It might have gone on like this for a while but then came news that King Stannis was marching on Harrenhal. The garrison began to strengthen the defenses more and to prepare for a siege and Hot Pie knew that the war had caught up with him once more. How he wished he had gone north with the others!

Ser Gregor actually seemed happy that war was coming their way again, said old Lucan. Ser Gregor had brought his armor and sword to be repaired and was in a good mood for a change. He was a man who liked killing, Lucan said. He told Hot Pie he had the same feeling about the Mountain's brother when he was here.

"Some men just like to see blood and to hurt others," Lucan told him. "Don't know why. I guess the gods made them that way."

Ser Gregor might have been happy but everyone else was afraid. As he went about the castle delivering bread Hot Pie heard more than one Lannister man say they should bugger off to the west while they had the chance.

Yet some of the servants were also a little pleased Stannis was coming because they knew these few Lannisters could never hold out against an army. Then King Stannis would give the castle back to Lady Whent and life would get back to normal.

Then Hot Pie and everyone else's dreams of freedom was shattered one morning. He was at the armory to deliver the food when Lucan took him aside as the others ate their meager fare.

"Boy, you tell them that works in the kitchens to get ready to leave at a moment's notice," the old blacksmith told him quickly.

"Why? What's happening?"

"The old maester was here to see me. He had a bird yesterday. The Imp and the little boy King ordered Ser Gregor to abandon Harrenhal and put it to the torch and go west to the Golden Tooth."

"You mean…were leaving with them?" He had never heard of a place called the Golden Tooth.

Lucan shook his head. "No, boy. They got no food for extra mouths. And we'd be a drag on them as we got no horses."

"So…we'll stay here and serve King Stannis then?"

But Lucan shook his head. "No, we won't. The Mountain means to put us to the sword first. The maester heard him tell one of his men, that Polliver fellow. Said they'd do it at night when were supposed to be asleep. Less trouble that way. Drag us from our beds and gut us all and leave nothing for King Stannis but corpses and a burned out castle."

Hot Pie almost pissed his breeches when he heard that. "But…we're workers…they need us! Who's going to make the bread in the morning?"

"Get hold of yourself, boy!" Lucan said taking hold of his shoulders. "We're smallfolk and we mean nothing to them sers and high lords! You got to tell the others. We're going, soon as it gets dark."

"How? Where?"

"Out the postern gate."

"It's guarded most nights."

"Aye," Lucan said. "It is at that. But we've got to find a way to get rid of the guard. Or kill him."

"What about the sewers?" Hot Pie suggested, suddenly remember how Arya told him how she heard from her father how Bronn and Podrick took the castle.

"Could be," said Lucan thoughtfully. "The Imp's man Bronn came in that way. Maybe we can go out. When I was a boy here I was sent down there once to clean them. I still remember the smell. But I also remember where the entrance is."

"Where will we go after that?"

Lucan shook his head. "Don't rightly know. But we can't stay here or we'll be dead."

"Lord Stark offered me a place in Winterfell," Hot Pie said. "If only I had gone with him!"

"Maybe it's not too late. Lord Stark is a good man. Maybe he got places for all of us."

"It's a long way north Arya told me."

"Aye, 'tis true," Lucan replied as he rubbed his stubbly chin. "Tell the others best we take as much food as we can. It'll be a long walk no matter where we go."

Hot Pie went back to the kitchens and soon told the old woman in charge. She scowled at him at first and said he was daft, but when he told her it was Lucan who told him she started to believe him. The old woman gathered them all in the back in their sleeping quarters.

After explaining what was happening, and hushing those few who started to squeak or cry out with a dirty glare and some harsh words, she gave them all their orders. Luckily the Mountain wasn't as careful as Ser Armory had been and no guards were placed in the kitchens or supply rooms. They gathered as much food as they dared without raising any suspicions. And then they waited, and the day seemed to drag on forever, as they still had to prepare meals for the garrison and the Mountain and his men.

Hot Pie still went about delivering bread to the garrison and it seemed to him the Lannister men had no idea they would be leaving soon. They still repaired the walls and sighted in the catapults and trained at the archery butts and sharpened their swords and daggers. Patrols still went out the main gate and other patrols came in. The armory was as busy as ever when Hot Pie brought them some stale bread and a bit of honey he managed to scrounge in the afternoon.

"Aye, they looks busy," said Lucan. "Mayhaps the Mountain ain't told them Lannister men the plan yet."

As Hot Pie was crossing the courtyard near the stables with his empty bread basket, one of the Mountain's men stopped him. It was Polliver and he had a nasty side to him like the rest of Ser Gregor's men.

"You, fat boy!" he shouted. Hot Pie froze in his tracks, trembling, wondering what he had done wrong. He turned and dipped his head and said nothing.

"Get some bread and follow me," Polliver told him. "Quick about it now!"

Hot Pie only said 'yes' and scurried off to the kitchens with Polliver right behind him. Hot Pie gather up a basketful of bread while Polliver stood nearby chewing on a juicy chicken leg. Hot Pie hadn't had a chicken leg in ages and his mouth watered at the sight.

"That's enough," Polliver told him, as he threw the bones on the floor. "Move it."

He followed Polliver out of the main gate and then they went to the left walking quickly to some small hills not far from the castle. Hot Pie huffed and puffed to keep up and Polliver told him he'd cut his pecker off if he didn't keep up. Hot Pie was scared. He knew Polliver would do it. He had killed a Lannister man over a dice game and he had heard stories about how Polliver had raped one of the serving girls who refused to bed him.

Soon they found three Lannister men sitting around a fire. Hot Pie was ordered to give them a loaf of bread and he did so and then they continued to walk and came on three more men and another fire and he gave out more bread. On they went to more groups of men and by the time they were done the bread was gone and it was getting late, the sun getting low on the horizon.

Back at the castle Hot Pie quickly made his way to Lucan and told him what he had seen.

"Out guards," Lucan said. "In case King Stannis comes that way. To the west was they?"

Hot Pie thought about it and remembered where the sun was. "Yes, the west. And north too maybe."

"I bet they got more to the east. Make sure King Stannis don't send no spies or scouts in too close. Right. Means we can't go west or north or east."

"Where will we go then?"

"South…along Gods Eye's shore. First east a bit and then due south. Then the Kingsroad and maybe we find King Stannis."

Hot Pie thought it was a good idea. The King would protect them. He was a King. Kings were supposed to protect smallfolk from men like the Mountain and Polliver and the rest.

Night came soon after. The Mountain and his men usually supped in the Mountain's solar, formerly Lady Whent's solar, while the Lannister men took their meals in the great hall or at their posts. Some girls had to serve and it would be difficult for them to get away but not long after the supper time was nearing the end they managed to one by one slip away.

Lucan had them gather in an old tower that no one was living in. In the end there were almost fifty people gathered and then when the old maester came he told Lucan they could wait no more for any stragglers because soon someone would notice all the workers were missing.

Lucan had a lamp and another old blacksmith had another and they lit the lamps. Lucan had a short sword in a scabbard on his belt and his big hammer also. The other blacksmiths and their apprentices were armed as well and Lucan had taken some more weapons and handed them out. Hot Pie got a long dagger, almost a short sword. Most of the kitchen workers had taken knives as well. Most of them also had sacks on their backs with food in them. Few had any personal possessions and Lucan had told them to leave their stuff behind cause they traveled light and had no need of anything that would slow them down.

"If they find us we ain't dieing without a fight," Lucan told them. "If anyone tries to stop us, you gut him cause they'll do the same to you."

Hot Pie gulped and in the poor light he could see many faces filled with fear. Lucan started walking, told them to follow him and they did. He led them down corridors filled with dust and cobwebs. After some time they came to a door and Lucan entered and after a few minutes came out again.

"Right. This here's the entrance to the sewers. It's an awful stench but we'll live with it. There's a slimy stone ladder down so mind your footing. And mind the rats as well. They won't bother you less you bother them."

Hot Pie gulped again. Then he waited, for what seem like forever, and then it was his turn to go down into the sewers. He went down the narrow square hole in the floor and felt with his feet and found the stone ladder. Slowly he made his way down and the smell attacked his nose and his heart quailed but he did it and was soon at the bottom in waste deep sewage water. Now the stench got unbearable and more than one person ahead of him was gagging and he heard someone getting sick.

"Keep moving!" Lucan told them as he stood there with his lamp. Ahead the other blacksmith was leading them and Hot Pie just followed, trying to keep close to the person ahead of him, a young serving girl, no older than him. In the dark he could hear her crying.

"It'll be all right," he told her, more to boost his own courage than hers. "We'll be out soon. It's not far."

"I'm afraid of rats," she said with a whimper.

"Me, too," Hot Pie told her. "But we got knives and swords so they won't bother us none."

She seemed to stop crying after he said that. They were quiet for a moment as they moved, and the water level got lower and the floor sloped down.

"You're Hot Pie," the girl said in the darkness.

"Yes."

"I'm Sheila," she said and then Pie knew who it was. She had been one of the girls the Mountain's men went after and Hot Pie was sure she had been the one raped by Polliver. One day she had come back from serving food to the Mountain's men and her clothes were torn and she had a cut lip and wouldn't stop crying. The old woman took her to the back of the kitchen and told the rest of them to mind their work. After that the old woman kept Sheila in the kitchens as much as possible.

"We'll be okay, Sheila" he said. "Lucan will get us out. Then we will find the King and he will protect us."

"I hope he kills all them Lannisters," she suddenly said in anger and Hot Pie wished that as well.

Soon Hot Pie realized the people in front were no longer moving. "What's happening?" he asked Sheila.

"I don't know."

Just then came the other blacksmith walking back. He met Lucan coming up.

"It's blocked!" said the other old blacksmith.

"Damn," swore Lucan. "Let's have a look."

He went forward with some other strong men. Soon Hot Pie heard sounds like pounding, but it seemed strangely quiet. He went ahead and soon saw Lucan and the others were working on breaking down an iron gate that was across the sewer entrance tunnel. Lucan and another smith had their hammers wrapped in cloth and were beating on the gate's iron rods where it was stuck into the brick walls. It took a while but they soon had an opening made and one by one the people slipped out of their stinky prison.

Outside the lamps were put out and they stopped and breathed the cool night air. The sky was clear and the stars and moonlight made it easy to see. Hot Pie could hear the sounds of water and he walked to the edge of Gods Eye.

"Think there are really monster's there?" Sheila asked him as she stood by his side.

"I hope not," he said. He turned to look at her. In the light of day he knew she was plain looking but had nice brown hair and brown eyes and a nice smile. She came up to his shoulder and was very thin. She smiled at him.

"Thanks for helping me back there."

Hot Pie smiled also and then wrinkled his nose. "We still stink."

"I know what will help," she said and she started walking out into the lake. Hot Pie went to stop her but she just laughed and then soon others were going in the lake as well to wash the stench out of their clothing. Hot Pie went in too and it was cold and he was scared of the monsters but he was glad to get a bit clean.

As he stood in knee deep water he looked behind them and it seemed as if there was a massive black cliff looming above them, the great cliff of Harrenhal. "I hope I never come back here," he said.

"I was born here," Sheila told him.

"You have folks here?" Hot Pie asked.

"No…my mum was a serving girl like me. But she died a few years ago. My father…he was a soldier for Lady Whent. He died when the Imp took the castle."

"I'm sorry," Hot Pie said and there was nothing else he could say that would make it better. Too many children with no mothers or fathers. That's all war does. It destroys families.

Just then Lucan came along. "Everyone here? Right. Out of the lake and off we go then."

They started walking to the east, Hot Pie guessed, cause the black cliff of Harrenhal was still to their left and Gods Eye to their right. He wasn't exactly sure it was east, cause he was a city boy and knew streets better than lakes and fields and forest and such. But Lucan said they would go south and he knew they had to east a bit before that.

Suddenly they stopped again and Hot Pie soon saw why. Up ahead they could see the wharf that led out into Gods Eye. There were no boats there. But there was a small fire nearby and some men there.

"Down!" Lucan hissed and they soon all lay flat in the sandy soil near the water's edge. Up ahead Lucan whispered some orders and soon Lucan and seven or eight others crawled up. After what seemed like forever, Hot Pie heard the sounds of a fight, steel on steel, men crying out, and then silence.

When the rest got up to the wharf they got a shock. Two Lannister men were dead. But Lucan was badly hurt, a sword wound in his belly.

The old woman from the kitchens knelt next to him and took his hand. "You old fool," she said with tears in her eyes. "You old fool."

"Aye, that I am," Lucan gasped, his eyes glassy with shock.

The old maester took one look at his wound and then shook his head. "Nothing to be done for it, my friend. I wish I had some milk of the poppy but…"

"Aye. Not to worry," Lucan said as he grimaced. "Where's the pie boy? Hot Pie?"

Hot Pie knelt next to him and saw in the moonlight the ghastly wound in his belly. "I'm here. Please don't die."

"My time, boy. Listen," Lucan gasped. "You find the King. Tell him you know Lord Stark. Tell him…you know Gendry."

"Gendry? Why? Do you know…?" But Hot Pie could not say that here among these people.

Lucan understood though. "Aye…I know who he is. I heard him and Lady Stark arguing one day about it. And he has the look of his father when he was a young man playing at tourney here. Tell the King you're Gendry's friend. He will take care of you. And these others. Tell him…" he stopped as pain filled his features. "Tell him they are good people."

Lucan gave one last gasp, his body shuddered, and then he was dead. The old woman cried and lay her head on his chest. Sheila and some of the others were crying as well.

"Come," said the maester after a bit. "We must be far away from Harrenhal when Ser Gregor finds out we've gone."

The old woman protested that they should bury Lucan but the maester finally convinced her that there was no time. She folded Lucan's hands on his chest, his dead fingers wrapped around his hammer, and after they said a small prayer for his soul they left him on the wharf.

They walked for a long time, along the edge of the lake, the other old blacksmith in front with some of the strong men and boys, with their weapons ready for trouble. But they saw no more fires and no more Lannister men. By dawn they were bone weary and halted and ate some food and drank some water from a small stream that went into the lake. They also took time to clean up a bit more.

They slept for a short time and then got up again and started walking some more. Soon they came to a place where the shore got rocky and then some small cliffs were in front of them with the water right up to them so they struck inland. After a short time they came on some farmers' fields. One old man was bent over his hoe in a field of corn and after they convinced him they weren't there to rob or kill him he pointed the way to the Kingsroad.

After they left the farmer's field the old woman and the old blacksmith argued over whether they should go to the Kingsroad or not.

"Lannister men are on the Kingsroad!" she shouted at him.

"So is King Stannis," the old blacksmith said. "Lucan said we were to find the King."

They finally decided to walk near the Kingsroad but not on it. Soon that plan was gone by the wayside as the land near the Kingsroad was rough and filled with fields, fences, and small stands of forest. By noontime after a quick bite to eat and another short rest they were on the Kingsroad heading south.

Hot Pie grinned as he and Sheila walked side by side. It was a cool, sunny day, with just a slight breeze in the air. He was heading home maybe, back to King's Landing. Then the smile died on his face as he remembered that King's Landing was half destroyed and he had no family or anyone else there anymore.

He kept looking over his shoulder and finally Sheila asked him what he was doing.

"I am suppose to go north," he said. "Lord Stark said I could go to Winterfell."

"I know," she told him. "Everyone said you were daft for staying behind."

"What? How did you know?"

"No secrets in Harrenhal," she answered. "I know Lady Stark and Gendry were your friends. All the girls liked him. But they whispered he only had eyes for Lady Stark."

"That's not true!" Hot Pie said before he could stop himself.

"If you say so," Sheila replied with a grin, in a way that made Hot Pie think she thought he was lying. Which he was, of course.

Hot Pie was about to reply when suddenly from behind them shouted one of the men who was their rearguard. "Cavalry! Lannisters!" he shouted.

"Gods!" Hot Pie exclaimed and thought once more how stupid he was for not going to Winterfell. They were armed yes, but they could not stand up to cavalry. Even Hot Pie knew that much. Then there was no more time to think. Everyone was shouting and running and scattering to the four winds. Sheila grabbed his hand.

"Come on!' she shouted, her eyes wide with fear. She dragged him off the road and they ran and ran and soon came to a stand of bushes and fell into it and lay there, breathing hard. Sheila was right up against him and had her face pressed into his shoulder.

"Don't let them take me again," she whispered and he felt her trembling.

"We'll be safe here," he said but he didn't feel very safe.

Hot Pie could now hear thundering horse hoofs and then came a scream and a shout and he closed his eyes and wished and wished and wished but none of his wishes came true because the sound of horses was getting closer to where they were.

"I saw someone come over here," said a voice and Hot Pie thought he knew that voice. It was Polliver.

"I'll look this way," came another voice and then he heard a horse moving away from them.

As Sheila trembled more Hot Pie took hold of his long dagger and held it in his sweating hands. The sound of footsteps came closer and then the bushes were parted and Hot Pie screamed and leaped at Polliver.

But he was a true fighter and Hot Pie was just Hot Pie, a fat boy with a dagger and Polliver wore armor and had a long sword and was bigger and stronger. Hot Pie's dagger thrust missed widely and Polliver just backhanded him with an armored gauntlet and laughed at the same time. Hot Pie was staggered by the blow and felt some teeth crack as he hit the ground. He was senseless as he lay there.

"Well, well," said Polliver. "Little Sheila. I think I'll have another taste of you. Before I kill you and your fat friend here."

"No…no…please…," Sheila cried and then Polliver growled and then came the sound of ripping cloth and she screamed.

Hot Pie fought to get up, fought to regain his mind and body as he heard the struggle going on right next to him.

"Stop…please…stop...I'll do anything...please," Sheila begged.

"I know you'll do anything," Polliver said and Hot Pie could hear the lust dripping from his voice. "Open your mouth girl. Make me happy and I just might let you live."

That did it for Hot Pie. He somehow found some strength in his fat body and he got to his knees and there was his dagger on the ground. In a heartbeat he had it in his hand.

Polliver was standing with his back to Hot Pie, his breeches down, and Sheila was on her knees in front of him, her dress torn. She hadn't taken him in her mouth yet but she was crying and seemed resigned to her fate.

His back was all armor but his buttocks and legs weren't and that's were Hot Pie attacked. He screamed and drove the dagger deep into Polliver's left arse cheek and Polliver's scream was one of the most satisfying things Hot Pie had heard in his whole life.

Polliver fell in agony and Hot Pie stabbed him over and over and was crying and gasping for air and then his dagger found his enemy's exposed throat. Polliver gasped and gasped some more and died as he drowned in his own blood.

"He's dead," Sheila said after a bit.

Hot Pie said nothing, still gasping for air. He looked at her and there were tears in her eyes and a look he had never seen from a girl before in his entire life. He thought it was love and it must have been cause he felt the same at that moment.

Hot Pie wiped his hands of the blood on some grass and he picked up Polliver's sword. "Come on," he said and then he helped her up. He handed Sheila the dagger.

"Where are the others?" Sheila asked with worry. They weren't out of danger yet.

"Don't know," Hot Pie said, his eyes darting about. "We best get away from the road."

They had just left the area near the bushes and were heading for a clump of trees when they heard it, the sound of a horse.

A Lannister man was charging across the field at them, his sword raised high. "RUN!" Hot Pie shouted and Sheila needed no more encouragement and took off for the stand of trees.

Hot Pie was not a fighter but he knew if he ran too they were both dead. But if he stood and fought Sheila might get away. For the joy he got from a look from a girl that had lasted a mere moment Hot Pie stood his ground and prepared to die. He didn't want to die, knew he was a coward a heart, but in that moment he knew he had to do something for the girl. As the horse and rider with the big sword in his hand neared Hot Pie the last thought that went through his head was that he should have gone to Winterfell.

But it wasn't his last thought. Suddenly the rider screamed and he fell from his horse, an arrow deep in his back. He lay there in pain, groping for his sword he had dropped when he fell. Before the rider could get his sword and get up, Hot Pie slashed down with Polliver's sword and cut the man's neck open and he died.

Then he looked around and he saw many men and horses and they were carrying a yellow banner with a fiery heart. They were everywhere, chasing down Lannister men and killing them and rounding up the smallfolk and helping them.

Three of them on foot with bows came up to Hot Pie, keeping their bows drawn and on him. Hot Pie dropped his bloody sword and held out his hands.

"Where you from boy?" asked one, bearded and older looking than the others. He wore studded leather armor and had a short sword by his side as did the others.

Hot Pie's words would not come, he was so shocked at this turn of events and his near death. Then Sheila was there beside him. "We came from Harrenhal," she said quickly. "The Mountain and his men was going to kill us so we escaped last night. They plan to leave and put the place to the torch."

The bows were lowered. One of them found Polliver's body. "You kill him?" he asked and Hot Pie nodded.

"He was attacking the girl."

The man spat on Polliver's body. "Lannister scum."

One of the archers, the older one, looked over Sheila's clothes and saw the state they were in. "Come child. No man in King Stannis' army will harm you."

"For certain," said another one with a chuckle. "Or they'll get gelded. Or worse."

As they took them back to the Kingsroad Hot Pie suddenly remembered Lucan's words. "I need to see King Stannis. Is he here?"

The leader looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Aye. Down the road a bit. Why?"

"I…I knew Lord Stark. And…I know a lot about what's going on at Harrenhal."

The archer considered him for a moment. Just then a big man in chain mail on horseback came up. "What's this?" he demanded and the others dipped their heads to him.

"They claim they escaped from Harrenhal, my lord," said the older archer. "Say the Mountain is in charge and he plans to abandon Harrenhal and torch it."

"Very well," said the lord. "Round them all up and bring them. The King will want words with them."

Soon they were back on the Kingsroad. After quick conversations with the other survivors Hot Pie knew he and Sheila had been lucky. The maester and the old woman from the kitchens and the old blacksmith were dead as were ten others. If King Stannis' men hadn't come along they'd all be dead.

As they stood by the side of the rode resting and eating, with some weeping a bit for their lost friends, the army marched on by. There was cavalry up front and archers and men-at-arms on foot, and then came siege engines and many wagons with food. It was all orderly and precise and Hot Pie and the others could feel the power of this new king. After a short time King Stannis himself came up the road. Hot Pie had never seen a king up close before despite living in King's Landing all his life. Stannis was thin and almost bald and had a grim look about him. He wore plate over mail with the fiery sigil on it and had a long sword at his side. With him on a horse next to him was a woman dressed all in red. She was beautiful, in a strange way, as if to look at her too long would hurt your eyes.

The lord who had talked to them approached Stannis and soon the King went off the road and got down from his horse and many others did as well. A camp stool was brought and Stannis sat on it with the red woman standing by his right side and many knights and lords around him. The army kept marching by as this went on. Soon Hot Pie and the rest were called over. As they came before King Stannis they all got down on one knee and dipped their heads.

"Who is your leader?" Stannis asked and no one spoke, all afraid, their eyes on the ground. Their leaders were all dead. The King grew impatient. "Come, I have no time for this. Tell me what you know."

Suddenly Hot Pie found himself looking up and he didn't know why. "Yes. You. Speak," said the King. "Stand up. What's your name?"

"Hot Pie, Your Grace," he said in a squeak as he stood and that brought laughter from the men around Stannis but the King did not laugh.

"At least you know how to address a King properly…Hot Pie," Stannis said.

"Yes, Your Grace. I was born in King's Landing and my mum taught me how to speak to my betters."

"A smart woman. How did you come to be here?"

"Was caught thieving, Your Grace," he admitted. "They told me to take the black or get the rope."

"You're not in black and are a long way from the Wall," one lord pointed out.

"Yes, my lord," Hot Pie said. "I was with Lord Stark's group and we got caught up in the war and ended up at Harrenhal."

"You know Lord Stark?" Stannis asked intently.

"Yes, Your Grace. And his daughter. And…and Gendry."

"Who is Gendry?" the red woman asked him.

"My brother's bastard son," Stannis told her in a dismissive tone, as if it was unimportant. "Now, Hot Pie, tell me what has been happening at Harrenhal?"

So he told them it all, about the Imp and Amory Lorch and the Goat and the Mountain and the plans to torch the castle.

"And how did you escape?" Stannis asked and so he told them all about the sewers, too.

"Yes, I thought I detected a foulness on the air," said one lord in a haughty manner as he wrinkled his nose. Stannis gave him a stone cold look and the lord's face fell. Stannis then turned back to Hot Pie.

"Very well," he said. He turned to one of his lords. "See they have some food and send them on their way."

He was getting rid of them. "Beg pardon, Your Grace," Hot Pie said quickly before his courage left him.

Stannis had already stood. He stared at him and Hot Pot quailed. "Yes?" the King finally asked.

"We got nowhere to go. These people, Harrenhal was their home. They want to go back when the war is over and Lady Whent comes home, Your Grace. But now…they are all good workers and will be proud to serve you and yours, Your Grace, as you fight the Lannisters."

Stannis seemed to think for a moment and then nodded. "Very well." He turned to the same lord. "Question them and put them where they can best serve."

After that they were dismissed and before long Hot Pie found himself at the baker's wagon. They marched north with the army and for once in a long time Hot Pie felt safe again. In the late afternoon they camped on the Kingsroad and Hot Pie helped make the bread for the supper. Later as the sun was setting he went and found some of the Harrenhal people and they told him where Sheila was.

Sheila was sitting on the ground by a fire by herself. She was sewing her torn dress. She was wearing an old linen shift and had a blanket around her shoulders. She smiled when she saw him and he sat down.

"You did good," she told him. "Everyone said so. Like you was born at court."

He flushed. "No...just…someone had to do it."

"What did the King mean about Gendry?" Sheila asked him. "Everyone was talking about it after. Said he was 'my brother's son' or something like that. And Lucan said something about him, too."

Hot Pie sighed. He had sworn to keep Gendry's secret but it was no secret now so he could tell her. "Gendry is King Robert's bastard son."

She was shocked. "Really?"

"Yes. Lord Stark told him it was true so it must be true,"

They talked on that for a bit and about his adventures coming north and then soon it was dark. As the darkness came suddenly someone shouted.

"Look!" yelled a man.

Sheila and Hot Pie stood and looked off to the west and north where the man was pointing. There was a bright orange glow on the horizon and it was not the setting sun causing it.

"Harrenhal," Hot Pie said.

"It's on fire," Sheila said, her voice grim. "Good."

And then in the growing darkness, he felt Sheila take his hand and grasp it and then she leaned close to him and he felt her soft lips kiss his right cheek. "Thank you," she said and Hot Pie was too shocked to reply, so he just stood there and held her hand and they watched the glow on the horizon and for once in a long time Hot Pie was glad he hadn't gone north to Winterfell.


	7. Chapter 7 Tyrion

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 7 Tyrion**

Ser Emmon Frey's funeral lasted half the morning and by the time it was done Tyrion Lannister, head of the powerful Lannister family, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, Lord of Casterly Rock, and Hand of the King, needed a piss so bad he thought he would fill his breeches where he stood. The septon droned on and on through the funeral rites. By Tyrion's left side his Aunt Genna and three of her four sons stood, Genna sniffling and every now and then giving off a little wail, while her sons remained stoic.

On Tyrion's other side King Tommen fidgeted and played with his crown and tried to be kingly but failed no matter how many times his mother nudged him or dug her fingers into his little shoulder. Myrcella stood to Cersei's right with the Hound right beside her. Jaime and the remaining two Kingsguard men, Ser Preston and Ser Arys, stood directly behind Tommen, intently scanning the crowd that filled the sept. Bronn and a hundred of his men ringed the sept's inner walls and Tyrion knew at least five hundred other armed men filled the corridors of the Rock.

The reason for all the extra security was that the assassin had not been found. The man, or men, that point was still being debated, had killed Ser Mandon Moore and fourteen others, guards and servants, and no one as much seen or heard him except for Cersei, taken by dagger point in her bath and warned that this was all pay back for humiliating the Iron Bank. The Braavosi banker was not found, nor were the few men who had ridden with him. A search of the castle from top to bottom revealed no trace of them except for the banker's luggage left behind in his room. The search still went on as the Rock was big and had many hidden passages and unused rooms. Riders sent out on all the roads leading from the Rock had found no trace of them either and no ships had left port as far as Tyrion knew, at least since he gave orders to Admiral Lefford to close the port while the search went on.

It wasn't until the next morning after the killings that Ser Emmon's body was found in his bed with his throat slashed from ear to ear. A servant found him, screamed and ran for the guards. Genna had long since taken to not sharing a bed with her husband and lucky for her she did not, as she would most likely be dead as well.

"More payback," Tyrion said to Bronn and Jaime after a shaking and crying Genna was led away by the maesters with orders to give her dreamwine and put her to bed.

"Fuck," Bronn said, as he looked over Emmon's pale body. "Bled out. Have to burn all the bedding and mattress."

"That is the least of our worries," Tyrion told him.

Jaime fumed. "A nice trick you played on this Braavosi, little brother. And now we are paying for your cleverness."

Tyrion knew he was right but the rebuke from his brother still stung. "Quite," was all Tyrion said to Jaime before turning to Bronn. "How goes the search?"

"Still searching. It's a big castle. I best get back to it."

Bronn looked tired and had been up all night as well but Tyrion knew he would not rest yet. Bronn was mad that the killers had so far gotten away and Tyrion knew he would do his utmost to find them and bring them to justice, most likely with blood at the end of his blade.

"We need them alive if you find them," he reminded Bronn.

"Aye. If they come quiet. Then you can squeeze all the truths you want from them as you tickle their feet."

After Bronn left them Tyrion turned to Jaime again. "I'm sorry."

Jaime sighed, his eyes red from lack of sleep as well. "There's naught to be done about it now. You should make apologies to Cersei as well. If…if…they had harmed her…or Tommen, I'd…" Jaime's face turned pale and he staggered and grabbed a bed post to steady himself.

Tyrion put his small hand on his big brother's arm. "But they did not," he said in a quiet tone. "She is well, as are your children. Let us count our luck instead of lamenting our losses."

"Tyrion…promise me this," Jaime said with barely controlled rage. "The Iron Bank will not see one dragon from our coffers. Ever. And when this war is done and winter is over and Westeros is Tommen's to rule, you and he will give me the men and arms and ships to sail to Braavos and burn the whole stinking morass to the ground."

Tyrion knew he could never do that, for a thousand reasons, all good. But Jaime wanted his promise and he would have it. "Lannisters always pay their debts, brother. We shall pay back Braavos in the coin they paid us. With steel and blood."

Jaime half grinned. "You always have a way with words. Now you best use that brain and wit and your words to think on how we handle this. To the realm."

Just then two Silent Sisters came and entered the bed chambers to begin their grim work. Jaime and Tyrion moved to an outer room.

"The truth would make us look weak and foolish," Tyrion told him quietly.

"The truth, yes," Jaime said as they walked and then stopped by a small table. "But we cannot stop everyone from talking. The truth will get out."

"Then it had best be the truth as we say it is," Tyrion replied. And then it came to him. "We have an enemy, closer to home than the Iron Bank and Braavos. Why not blame him?"

That had been three days ago. The blood was cleaned up, the Silent Sisters had done their duty, and the funerals began, in the lichyard on a high wind swept hill outside of Lannisport for the dead servants and guards and in the sept in Casterly Rock for Ser Mandon and Ser Emmon. Ser Mandon's brief funeral service had been yesterday, with fewer in attendance than for Ser Emmon. Tommen had given a brief eulogy for Ser Mandon, praising his strong knight for his service to the realm and for paying the ultimate price, dying while protecting his King. Tyrion had written it all down for him and made him memorize it and it went well. Cersei had protested all this, saying he was too young to be speaking at funerals, but both Jaime and Ser Kevan had agreed with Tyrion and once Tommen agreed as well, Cersei's objections were ignored. Afterward everyone said how well Tommen had spoken for the fallen knight and Cersei beamed, no doubt saying the idea was all hers.

By the time it came for the funerals Tyrion's lie about who had ordered the attack was being spread far and wide. They needed someone to blame for the attacks. Stannis Baratheon would serve their purposes. Stannis had sent assassins from Braavos in the guise of bankers. Their purpose was to kill a small boy and his mother in their beds. If not for the bravery of the guards outside of Cersei and Tommen's doors both would have been killed. Ser Emmon was not so lucky and neither were those servants and guards who got in the assassins' way. Oh, and to make it seem like they had thwart the assassins somewhat Tyrion added that two of them had been killed.

The lie would stick as long as few people knew what had really happened. No one knew what the assassin had said to Cersei except her and Jaime and Tyrion. Tommen might have overheard something when they talked about it in his bed chambers but he was nine years old and would do what they told him to do.

Tyrion sent out ravens to all the great houses, even to Riverrun and Winterfell, the Twins and Highgarden, and even Pyke, all their supposed enemies. The messages carried news of this craven attack and also news of how Joffrey was murdered by Stannis when he was weak and helpless. Tyrion had wondered if the banker had lied about that but then decided it didn't matter as such a story would serve to make Stannis look bad whether it was true or just another lie. These lies mixed with truths would serve to cause doubt among their enemies and make them wonder as to how well they knew this new king of theirs. Tyrion also sprinkled in dire warnings of what a Stannis Baratheon victory would mean for those who worshipped the old gods and the new. The Lord of Light's minions would destroy all the septs and heart trees with fire and put anyone who refused to follow Stannis' new god to the torch as well. Let's see how they enjoy thinking on that, Tyrion thought, as he sealed the messages and then carried them to the rookery.

One finally message he added to the letter for Dorne. Princess Myrcella was now heir to the throne. She was of a proper age to be betrothed. Why not to Prince Doran's youngest son? A match between House Lannister and House Martell would go a long ways towards healing old wounds. Such an offer Tyrion knew Prince Doran would weigh carefully even as he knew his brother the Red Viper would dismiss it out of hand and try to convince the Prince to join Stannis. Tyrion knew they still wanted vengeance for their dead sister and her children. Ser Amory Lorch had killed Rhaegar and Elia's girl and now he was dead. Tyrion's father had given the orders and now he was dead as well. That left only Gregor Clegane, who had killed Prince Aegon and raped his mother with the baby's blood still on his hands. Maybe it was time for the Mountain to fall. Tyrion would have to wait to see what answer he received from Dorne.

Finally, the service for Emmon was over. Tyrion gave his condolences once more to Genna and her sons. Her boys planned to take their father's bones back to the Twins and Genna had not protested.

"He never felt at home here, even after all these years," she told Tyrion when he was given this news the day before the funeral.

"I will provide a guard of ten men and a peace banner," he told her. He also provided a personal letter to Walder Frey. Emmon was his second son, and even though Emmon supported the Lannisters during the war, Tyrion had a feeling old Walder Frey would be quite upset to learn his son was dead at the hands of assassins sent by Stannis.

After Genna thanked Tyrion for his offer of guards her eyes grew hard. "I loved Emmon in my own way. He was not a perfect husband. But he had a good heart. Stannis and Braavos must pay, Tyrion. If he was still with us, Tywin would not rest until House Lannister was avenged. Now is the time to be your father."

"They will pay," Tyron promised her, knowing there was little chance he could do anything about Braavos. He also knew if he kept making such promises he might have to carry them out one day. Yes, my father would have made them pay, somehow, if he were alive. But he is not, Tyrion said to himself, and I am left with all his burdens and problems. And his reputation to live up to.

After the funeral rites were over and Tyrion had made his condolences once more and said a few words to this lord or that lady, he hastily excused himself and made his way to a nearby chamber and found a privy. Too much wine for breakfast, he knew. As he finished emptying his bladder he heard footsteps behind him and felt the hairs stand on his neck. He turned swiftly, only to hear the laughter of Bronn.

"Your sword is unsheathed," said the black haired sellsword, looking down at Tyrion's crotch.

Tyrion hastily fixed his breeches and moved out of the privy. "I thought you were… nevermind."

"I know who you thought I was. Which is why I was following you. Just in case. I don't have my lordship yet and if you go, well, I don't think your sister will think too long before I'm out in the cold. Or worse."

"I am sure you have the right of it. But I am still here, which I am sure we are both glad of. Thankfully the assassin does not like hiding in a privy."

"You still think it was just one man did it all?"

"Maybe. The Faceless Men usually work alone. Or so I've heard. I know not that much about them. This one…if he was a Faceless Man…he could have been one of the men that came with the banker. What have you found out?"

"Nothing new from what I told you two days ago. Three young fellows came with the banker, servants or guards or what have you. All of them and the banker arrived at the Lion's Mouth on horses, three of which are now missing from the stables. The guards said the three young ones went to Lannisport for some fun the afternoon of the attack. Or so they said they were going for some fun, asking the guards about where the best whores were. Anyways, I got the lads looking through the whore houses and wine sinks and nothing so far. And no sign of them horses either."

"Did anyone see them enter Lannisport?"

"No."

"Did they leave the Rock before or after my little display in the throne room?"

"After."

"So that just leaves the banker. No sign of him?"

"As I told you that first night. His bags are still in his quarters. His clothes are there, his parchments and inks, even his bloody quills. But no banker. You're welcome to look."

"I think I will."

After a long walk they came to the Braavosi banker's quarters. It was a large room, as befitting so distinguished a guest. Or so they thought he was. Next to the bed on the floor were his bags, opened and the contents scattered about, clothes, books, parchments, inks, as Bronn had described.

"He left in a hurry," Bronn said. "But no one saw him go."

"Yes," Tyrion said. "I have a feeling our friend Tycho Braye was no Braavosi banker. His real name maybe not even be Tycho Braye. I am sure he has had more than one name and more than one disguise since he came to Westeros."

"Seemed like a banker."

"Oh, yes, of course he did. And I am sure he was on legitimate business for the Iron Bank. There has long been a connection between the Iron Bank and the Faceless Men. That's how they move about and get the job done, these killers. Hiding as someone they are not. The secret of a good assassin is to kill someone without anyone ever knowing who did it or how."

"We know how. He cut their throats," Bronn said.

"Yet they are all dead and he is still in the wind. And he used poison on Ser Mandon. He knew Ser Mandon was an elite guard, not so easily tricked to allow a man to approach him, especially outside the King's door. I am sure Ser Mandon never saw or heard him. He shot that dart at him and melted away in the darkness."

"Bloody hell."

"Yes, bloody indeed. This assassin killed to make a point, killed those who meant nothing in the course of events, even poor Emmon. He killed to show he could do it to anyone. He killed Cersei's guards and Ser Mandon to show he could have gotten to the King and Queen…if he wanted to."

"Then it wasn't Stannis who sent him. Or them."

Tyrion wondered how long it would take him to see through the lie. "Why do you think not?"

"Cause Cersei and Tommen would be dead now if it was Stannis sent the killers. What Ser Jaime said to you that morning, in Ser Emmon's bed chamber. You tricked that banker and the Iron Bank. They really sent the banker to settle the debt. But then you pissed him off, so he called for his assassins. Stannis didn't send them."

Tyrion nodded. "Very good. All correct, for the most part. Except he did get to Cersei and had his dagger to Cersei's throat at one point."

"Too bad he didn't use it."

Tyrion gave Bronn a sharp look. "Best keep such thoughts to yourself in future. Especially around here."

"Aye. So…all he did was put a scare into her?"

"More or less. And blame me and her for what was happening. They still want their coin, and knew they would never get it if someone of importance died. Jaime still thinks we should not pay them. He also wants to raise an army and attack Braavos when our war is over here."

Bronn snorted. "I've been to Braavos. Tell your brother good luck cracking its defenses. If you Lannister lads ever get it in your heads to attack it, I think I just might be busy somewhere else."

Tyrion chuckled. "I have no intention of ever attacking Braavos. The Iron Bank on the other hand, well, let's just say I will pay my debts to them. In one way or another."

As he spoke Tyrion was going through the Braavosi banker's scrolls and other papers. Suddenly he came across a drawing. It was done in charcoal and seemed like it was of a young boy. But he looked very familiar.

He showed it to Bronn. "Anyone we know?"

Bronn took it in his rough hands and held it out flat. He peer at it, shrugged. "Just looks like some boy."

"Or a girl with short hair. You know her. Have met her."

Then surprise came to Bronn's eyes. "Too bloody right I do. The little one. Stark."

"Arya," Tyrion said and then he knew who the assassin was.

"What in Seven hells is a Braavosi banker, assassin, whatever he is, doing with a drawing of Arya Stark?"

"Because he knows her," Tyrion answered. "How else could he have drawn her? Or had someone draw her. It's Jaqen H'ghar."

"Jaqen…?'

"H'ghar."

Bronn now remembered. "Ned Stark said he was in that cage at the holdfast. Got away."

"Yes, and helped Lady Stark and her friends because they helped him."

"Ned Stark also said he had long straight red and white hair. This banker had black curly hair."

"A disguise. I am sure the man, Jaqen H'ghar or Tycho Braye or whatever name he goes by now, has changed appearances once again. Maybe even before he attacked. Cersei never saw his face and the others who met him are dead. Maybe we will never know the truth. He is long gone by now."

"Or still hiding. Here. Somewhere."

"Yes, there is that possibility so we must keep searching and keep on our toes. Especially if he is a Faceless Man, as Varys suspected Jaqen H'ghar is. They are ruthless and efficient."

"Then why did he leave this behind?" Bronn asked holding up the drawing and Tyrion was just thinking on that very thing.

"Had no chance to retrieve it maybe. Or maybe he knew we'd search here and we'd find it. Who knows?"

"Varys said that fellow was in the black cells back in King's Landing," Bronn reminded Tyrion. "Funny place for one of these Faceless Men to end up."

"Yes. You may also recall Lord Varys said he was caught after he killed a merchant who owed some debts. I wonder if those debts were to the Iron Bank. He got caught because he could not kill the man's daughter who surprised him. Maybe this fellow has a soft spot for young girls."

Tyrion told Bronn not to mention the drawing to anyone or who they suspected the assassin was. He also took all of the false banker's papers and scrolls and carried them to his apartments while Bronn went off to continue the search for the assassin. Personally, Tyrion felt it was a waste of time, that the killer was long gone. But there was a slim chance he was still in the Rock, and therefore the search had to continue.

After a short rest and a change of clothing Tyrion went to the small council room for a meeting. Much had to be discussed and decided. Ser Kevan and Admiral Lefford were there, as were the remaining Kingsguard men. Out in the corridor were a further twenty guards. Tommen, Jaime, and Cersei were there of course too, already seated when Tyrion arrived last. Tyrion's sister still seethed in anger and she could barely look at him as he sat down. She had not said it but he knew in her paranoid mind Cersei was blaming him for the attack that had almost killed her and her son. She should take a share of that blame herself, Tyrion knew, for she had wholeheartedly agreed with his plan and had done her part to humiliate the banker in front of the whole court. But Cersei was never one for accepting blame when she could pass it on to others.

When Tyrion took his seat, Tommen said they could begin and Tyrion started with the most important items.

"As yet we have no sign of the assassin or assassins," he reported. "The search continues. I, however, am of the opinion that the killers have fled."

Cersei stared at him, her eyes cold and hard. "They could be anywhere in the castle! These are no mere sellswords we are dealing with!"

"True," Tyrion agreed. "Most likely it was the Faceless Men. I now believe the killer or killers was one or more of the four men who claimed they came from the Iron Bank. Hired by Stannis to do us harm."

It was a lie, and Jaime and Cersei knew it was as well, and he also knew they would support him if anyone challenged his version of events. Jaime had told Cersei this part of the plan and she had agreed.

"The banker did say he came from King's Landing," Ser Kevan added. "How did they travel?"

"Not by ship," Admiral Lefford told them. "Only two ships put into Lannisport the day they arrived and the captains had no extra passengers, especially not the Braavosi banker. They must have come overland."

"None of our scouts or out lying posts saw them," Ser Kevan reported. "No nearby villages on the road west to King's Landing reported four strangers staying at any inns or taverns. Yet four men show up at our gates and we accepted them for what they said they were."

"We had no reason not to," Tyrion replied. "Emmon checked their credentials as did the captain of the guard and myself. Tycho Braye seemed to be what he claimed, a banker from Braavos. And now they are gone."

Jaime spoke up. "I believe Tyrion has the right of it. But we should maintain a more vigilant guard in case Stannis decides to hire more of these assassins in the future."

"Why did they kill Ser Mandon and Uncle Emmon?" Tommen suddenly asked in his child's voice. He was usually quiet in meetings unless directly asked a question. Tyrion looked to Cersei and there was fear and uncertainty in her eyes and then anger.

"The King should not have to hear such things," she snapped. "Ser Preston, take him…"

"No," Jaime interrupted her sharply. "The King must know what is at stake. He must know what kind of man his enemy is."

Cersei seemed about to protest this but held her tongue. Tommen looked at them all, and then his eyes fell on his mother. "Yes. Ser Uncle is right, Mother. I want to know everything. Just like Joff."

There was a slight tremble in his voice and Tyrion gave him a reassuring pat on the hand. "Not to worry, my King. We shall keep no secrets from you." That was a lie, of course, but this boy king only needed most of the truth, not all of it. "Some bad men came into our castle, Your Grace. Ser Mandon and Uncle Emmon died to protect you and your mother and sister and the other good people of our court and family. They died as heroes and should be remembered as such."

"Then we should find some way to honor them, Uncle," Tommen replied and it was a good answer.

"We will find a fitting way to honor them," Tyrion promised. "Now. Let us move." He turned to Jaime. "Lord Commander, we seemed to be short a few Kingsguards men. I believe seven is the correct number."

Jaime grunted. "Finding men of quality willing to give up their lands, titles, and the chance at a family is not so easy."

"I believe we thought to offer Loras Tyrell a spot," Cersei reminded them. "There must be other such eager young men, second or third sons, who would gladly don the white cloak."

"I will endeavor to find candidates shortly," Jaime promised them. "A shame Ser Loras is stuck in his cage in King's Landing."

"A shame on more counts than that," Tyrion told them. "I planned to ask Mace Tyrell for his daughter's hand for our King."

Cersei glared at him. "I have not heard of this plan."

Tyrion smiled, knowing she would react this way, wanting her anger to be public, not private where she could shout and threaten him as she wished. "You have now." He turned to Tommen. "What say you, my King? Would you like to be wed?"

Tommen made a face. "To a girl?"

"Of course," said Jaime with a laugh. "I have met Margaery Tyrell. She is comely and vibrant and has a very pleasant disposition. She would make a fine queen, Your Grace."

Cersei fumed. "She is almost twice his age and is a widow. And not likely to be a maiden anymore."

Both Tyrion and Jaime could not help but laugh and she glared at them. Ser Kevan was not amused either. "I fail to see the humor in this."

Tyrion knew he would have to be delicate in this matter in front of his boy king. "Let us just say that I have it on good authority that Renly Baratheon died before he could consummate the marriage."

Ser Kevan looked at him with narrowed eyes and then grunted. "If that is the case, then there should be no objections to such a match for King Tommen."

"You idiots," Cersei snapped again. "She is stuck in a cage in King's Landing. Stannis is not likely to let her see the light of day while keeping her and her brother locked up ensures Highgarden's support."

"An alliance built on such threats is like building a castle on a swamp," Tyrion told her and the rest. "It will not last. We just need to begin to force a wedge between the Tyrells and Stannis. If word of our offer reaches Mace Tyrell's ears, he will find a way to free his children."

"We need to do more than provide a wedge," Ser Kevan said.

"I said as much when we camped outside of King's Landing," Jaime reminded his uncle.

"Yes," Tyrion said quickly to forestall any arguments. "Perhaps we need to be more active in this matter. The only way Mace Tyrell will renounce Stannis is if his children are free. We must do this ourselves. We cannot depend on the Tyrells to do it. They have had almost two moons to do so with no results. And if we secure their freedom, what better signal to Highgarden that we mean to do our utmost to secure an alliance with them."

"But how?" Ser Kevan asked. "How do we get someone into King's Landing and get them out?"

"By sea," Lefford said quickly. "Stannis has opened the Blackwater again to traffic. He needs supplies. We slip someone in on a ship."

"It is a long voyage from here to King's Landing," Jaime commented.

"Better to go overland," Tyrion suggested.

They argued a bit more about this but reached no conclusions and when no one said anything else about it Tyrion knew it was a forlorn hope for now. "Well, we must think more on this. Now, as to Ser Emmon's replacement."

Cersei spoke up and it seems she had put some thought to this question. "No more family members whose only qualification is they are a Lannister or married to one of us. Someone professional. Someone like Littlefinger. Someone who will know how to deal with a banker the next time one comes calling."

That last was a barb at Tyrion and her glare only confirmed it. Tyrion grinned. "If you have any suggestions sister, by all means tell us."

She blanched. "No…no one. But I am sure some merchant in Lannisport will gladly take up the duty. To prove his loyalty to the realm."

They banded about a few names and then again reached no conclusion and Tyrion knew it was one more duty he must take on himself.

'How goes the war?" he finally came to as he looked from Lefford to Ser Kevan.

"One piece of good news, my lord," Lefford began. "Some fishermen have reported seeing the Iron Fleet…"

Before he could finish Cersei slammed her hand on the table. "You fool! You should have told us that sooner! Where are they?"

"Heading home, Your Grace," Lefford said and Cersei went to speak, said nothing and Lefford continued. "Four days ago they were reported heading to Pyke. The fishermen just came into port today. They said they were far out to sea, blown off course. Then just before sunset four days ago they saw a large number of masts and sails silhouetted against the setting sun and then they changed direction and disappeared over the horizon, heading north by northeast, the direction of the Iron Islands."

"They could easily change direction again," Tyrion said.

"All ships are on alert, my lord, as is the port," Lefford assured him. "We've sent word up and down the coast as well. They will not catch us asleep again."

"They had best not," Cersei said and the threat she implied was clear to all.

"I am sure the Admiral and his men are doing all they can," Tyrion said. "Ser Kevan, please provide additional soldiers for the defense as needed."

"Of course, my lord," Ser Kevan said. "As to our land bound enemies, there are no new reports. The Tyrells are quiet on our southern borders. The Riverlands lords are still licking their wounds. A large mass of men is still camped near King's Landing. The only active front is Harrenhal."

"Yes," Tyrion said. "Ser Gregor sent a raven. He received our message and will fall back on the Golden Tooth. Most likely has already done so. The question is what will Stannis' men do after they get to Harrenhal."

"Freeze," said Jaime with a grin. "With the fall rains soon here and winter coming soon after, Stannis cannot camp out in such a ruin. Twice it has been burned and any decent living quarters are likely to be useless by now."

Tyrion frowned. "Perhaps. I spent some time there as you know. Even dragon fire could not totally destroy the place. Best we have Ser Gregor keep patrols out to assess what Stannis will do next."

After that there was little else to discuss and the meeting broke up. Tyrion had a quick afternoon meal with Bronn and then the two of them plus Podrick and twenty guardsmen rode down from the Rock and went to inspect the defenses of Lannisport. It was a cool day with a hint of rain in the air as clouds gathered.

"Getting colder already," Tyrion observed as they stood in a stiff breeze on one of the docks looking at one of Lefford's converted merchant ships, now outfitted as a war galley. It was taking on supplies in a hurry and would soon put to sea, if the winds and tides were favorable.

"Aye," Bronn said, looking at the ship and its sailors and soldiers. "Glad I'm not going with them."

Tyrion grunted. "Yes, a sentiment I share. The Iron Fleet is supposedly heading back to Pyke. But if not, and these few ships we have meet the Iron Fleet…may the Seven help them."

"Then why send them?" Bronn asked.

"We must have time to rebuild our fleet and defenses. The few ships we have will put up a show of strength and…most likely be sunk or captured anyway. It is folly, you are right, but it is time we need."

Bronn looked to the sky. "Time for winter to come?"

"Yes. And for my seeds of alliance to find fertile ground," Tyrion replied. "If the Reach will somehow join us, we will have Paxter Redwyne's fleet to challenge both Stannis and the Iron Fleet.."

"We still need swords to fight on land."

"If Dorne joins us as well…then the scales will tip in our favor."

"Your sister will have a fit when she finds out you offered the princess' hand to the Dornish."

"Hopefully that won't be till after I have secured an alliance with House Martell."

"They haven't joined us yet," Bronn pointed out.

"Quite so. Let's go see how those swords we have are doing."

They rode to the massive army camp that was to the east of the Rock and Lannisport. Tyrion turned from the main encampment and went along to a smaller area of tents, wagons, and cooking fires set up behind ditches and barricades. A tall staff was planted by the camp gate, carrying the seven pointed star on a field of white. As they approached the gate's guards moved the barricade and let them in.

They found Lancel at the commander's pavilion. After they left Pod with their horses, Bronn and Tyrion entered. Lancel was alone, sitting at a table, reading a ledger book. He started to rise from his chair when he saw them but Tyrion waved him down.

"Sit, cousin," he said.

Lancel dipped his head. "My lord. Do you wish to inspect the men?"

"Perhaps later. Tell me of your doings first."

Tyrion sat and Bronn did as well while Lancel resumed his seat and began talking about numbers and supplies and training and on and on. Tyrion reached for a flagon on the table and to his horror discovered it only contained lemon water.

"What's this?" he interrupted Lancel. "My dear cousin, tell me there is a flagon of wine or at least ale somewhere in your camp."

"My men and I have taken a vow of abstinence from drink, my lord," Lancel told them. "And from all other worldly pleasures."

"From what?" Bronn asked in puzzlement as he looked in the flagon and made a face.

"Worldly pleasures," Lancel repeated.

"He means no women," Tyrion told Bronn. "I think I would jump off the highest battlement on the Rock if I ever had to take such a vow."

"You wouldn't be alone," Bronn assured him.

"The love of our gods and the knowledge that we fight with them in our hearts is enough for my men and I," Lancel said solemnly.

"They haven't done any fighting yet," Bronn said with a grunt.

Lancel bristled. "Are you questioning our bravery?"

"Nope," Bronn replied, unperturbed. "Just your lack of experience."

"You know I fought at King's Landing!" Lancel said in a louder tone. "And so did many others who have joined our holy cause. Others have fought in the Riverlands. There is even one old knight who fought years ago in the Step Stone wars."

"All very good, cousin," Tyrion replied after a sharp look to Bronn. "We expect great things from you and your men."

Lancel seemed to calm down. "Thank you, my lord. They shall not shame our cause. Stannis must be stopped before his false god burns all of Westeros. When do we strike?"

"Patience," Tyrion advised. "All in good time. We must be ready for the big battles ahead. Too much haste will damage our cause, not help it. Come, let us see your fine men."

After a brief tour of the camp with Lancel, they left him and started for the main camp.

"What do you think of them?" Tyrion asked Bronn as they rode side by side.

"Not too bad," he said. "They are starting to look like a proper fighting force. But they are still few in number. And he's got to weed out those who are just looking for a meal and have no stomach for the fight."

"Lancel is devoted to the Seven. He will know who is with him in his devotion or not."

At the main camp they sat with Ser Kevan and his commanders for a good long time, discussing patrol and scout reports. All was still quiet on all fronts. Ser Addam Marbrand suggested some large scale cavalry raids deep into the Reach to secure supplies and burn what they could not carry. But Tyrion vetoed the idea as he still had hopes of an alliance with the Reach.

Tucked under a hill just southwest of the camp was a small village. As they left the main camp gate near sunset Tyrion looked toward the village.

"Is she safe?" he asked Bronn.

"Aye. But not happy. She hasn't seen you in three days. And being shut inside all day is not for her. For anyone for that matter."

"Then perhaps it is time to move her."

"Where?"

"To your holdfast. Eventually."

Bronn looked at him in surprise. "My holdfast? Don't tell me you finally found a place for me to raise my banners?"

"I have at that. It's just to the south of here, near the coast. After discussions with Admiral Lefford I learned that one of his captains died when the Iron Fleet sunk his ship in Lannisport. He went down with his ship. He left no heirs, no living sons or daughters. He did leave a widow, however, and a holdfast, and some lands. She was only married to him for a fortnight before the attack. I don't even think he had time to bed her except for the wedding night. She is said to be a comely young thing."

Bronn grinned. "A woman like that should not be left alone for too long. Lots of bad men might want to take advantage of her recent loss."

"My thoughts exactly. You and I are not for foregoing worldly pleasures, my friend. I shall arrange for you to meet her soon. I have already sent a letter to her family, suggesting the match."

"Coming from you, how could they refuse?"

"Quite. So, you shall have a holdfast, many hides of land, with a small village nearby and some smallfolk. You shall be titled as Lord Bronn of the Five Towers as soon as I can arrange it all."

"Well, fuck me," Bronn said as he spat on the ground. "You're finally going to come through with one of your promises."

"As I have told you many times, a Lannister…"

"I bloody know!" Bronn interrupted and Tyrion laughed. It was good to get out of the castle and away from its dark halls and its reminder of death.

Bronn turned around and looked at Pod, who was several paces behind them. "What about the lad?"

Tyrion turned his horse. "What say you Pod? Ready to become a knight?"

Pod turned red and stammered his replied. "Yes,…yes…yes, my lord. If you think I am ready."

"Do you think you are ready?" Tyrion asked him again.

Pod gulped. "No, my lord. Maybe not. And I have not yet reached fourteen name days."

"Still a bit young," Bronn said. "Give it another year or so?"

"Pod? What say you?"

"Another year or so, my lord, yes. I will be happy to stay your squire."

"Very good then," Tyrion promised. "On your fifteen name day my brother shall knight you."

Once that was settled Tyrion ordered the men who had come with them to return to the Rock and get their supper. Their leader started to protest but Tyrion assured him he would be well protected with Bronn and Podrick at his side. Once the men were gone he turned his horse to the village. "Three days is too long," he said as he kicked his small heels into the horse's side.

Shae was sequestered on the second floor room of the small house Tyrion had bought as soon as he was settled into his new role. An old man who was once one of his grandfather's loyal knights was living on the ground floor, serving as Shae's guard and as a companion. Ser Wilfred was his name, and he was aged, and stooped, but could still weld a sword if need be.

He dipped his head as Tyrion and the others entered. "My lord," he said, a worried look on his face. "I did not expect you. She is…"

"Here," Shae said, coming from the kitchen area, looking even more radiant than ever, even with a bit of flour on her cheek and a wooden soup ladle in her hand. "We are cooking our dinner. There is enough for more. Will you stay, my lord?"

Tyrion smiled, his features tight. "I asked you to stay on the second floor during the day."

"Am I a prisoner?" she shot back.

"Of course not."

"Good. Then sit. And eat."

Bronn was already sitting at the table near a crackling hearth in the main room. "Tell me you have wine."

"Certainly, my lord," said Ser Wilfred.

Tyrion knew Bronn had told the old knight not to call him lord on more than one occasion but Ser Wilfred's memory was going. Bronn started to protest again but this time he stopped. "I am no…well, maybe I am after all. Lord Bronn."

"You need a last name as well," Tyrion said as he sat and Ser Wilfred and Pod went to help Shae. "What is your family name anyway?" Tyrion suddenly realized he had never asked Bronn this and it felt strange that he had not.

"Don't have one, like most smallfolk," came the reply.

"You must have one now. You are no longer smallfolk."

Bronn shrugged. "You pick one. Something not too flowery or grand though."

Pod brought in a big steaming pot of stew that smelled wonderful. "Why not Towers?" he stammered as he set the pot on the table.

Bronn laughed. "Boy has a good notion. Lord Bronn Towers of the Five Towers."

"In a hundred years the family name Towers will be held among the great names of Westeros," Tyrion said solemnly.

"Aye. If I live long enough to sire some whelps."

More food came, a salad, and some fried little fish, and warm bread, and two flagons of wine and one of ale. Soon they were all tucking into their food and drinking to their health and success in the war.

When night came Tyrion and Shae retired to the second floor. Pod curled up on a chair with a blanket over him while Bronn sat up drinking with Ser Wilfred listening to stories about the Lannister family.

When Tyrion's lust was sated he lay in bed holding Shae in his arms. She kissed his nose and then stared at him.

"I have heard such terrible stories about what happened at the Rock," she said, a worried look in her eyes.

"Nothing to fret about. An assassin failed and is now dead." The last part was another lie but it was one he hoped everyone soon believed.

"So is one of the Kingsguard and your uncle and many others."

"True. But the King and other royals remain unharmed."

"Were you in any danger?"

Tyrion shook his head. "Not at all. I am far down Stannis' list of those he wishes dead."

"But you are still on that list," she said. Then her eyes grew hard. "Fuck this place and fuck all of them. Let's go. To Pentos or Braavos or…anywhere but here. Stop laughing!"

He was laughing, and could not help it. She had tried this argument on him before and it didn't work. She sat up, then got out of bed, naked. Tyrion felt his loins stir again just looking at her as she yelled. "You think this is a joke! They will kill you!"

"They can kill me just as easily across the Narrow Sea," Tyrion told her as he sat up on one elbow. "Where in all of the world can I hide? A dwarf with two differently colored eyes, blond hair, and a sharp wit? I will be known wherever I go. My enemies will find me eventually. No. We stay here and we fight for what is ours. We win or we die. There is no other choice, my love."

She was about to shout again but the anger drained out of her as her beautiful eyes grew wide. "Love?" she said in a bare whisper.

Oh dear, what have I done now? Tyrion thought as she sat on the bed. "Tell me true, Lord of Lannister," she began. "Tell me how your heart feels for this whore you take to your bed."

He could not deny it any more. "I do love you, Shae," he said to her.

She bent to him and kissed his lips and she tasted like wine, and sex, and love. "Then I am yours, my love, now and for always," she said and lay with him and held him and loved him and for as long as Tyrion lay with her all his worries and cares fell away. For a brief time at least.

After a while she slept and he got up and dressed and went downstairs. Ser Wilfred was asleep with his head on the table next to some lit candles. Bronn picked up the aged knight under the arms and carried him to his small room and put him to bed.

Tyrion picked up a glass and filled it with wine and sat with Bronn, staring at the fire in the hearth. He took a long drink and then told him. "I told her I love her."

The sellsword raised his eyebrows. "Aye? And do you?"

"Yes." It was true, may the Seven help him, it was so true.

"That's trouble looking to happen," Bronn observed as he drank some more.

"I know."

"You can't wed her."

"I know," Tyrion said again, feeling his anger start to rise.

"You can't even take her into the Rock."

"I know!" he shouted once more and all his frustrations and anger exploded and he threw his glass of wine across the room where it shattered on the wall, leaving a red stain running and dripping to the floor.

Pod was up from his chair in an instant, his dagger out, his eyes wide. "It's nothing, Pod," Tyrion told him as he calmed down. "Get some rest."

"Yes, my lord," Pod said and then he fell back to his chair and blanket and was soon snoring lightly.

"Swift lad," Bronn said. "Getting better at sword play as well. He'll make a good knight."

"As you will a lord?"

Bronn shrugged. "Long as I don't have to kiss too many arses."

"If I ever fall from power Bronn, Cersei will give you but one choice. Support her or die."

"Then you best not fall from power."

"Loving Shae may just cause that."

"Aye…if Cersei finds out about her."

"Then it is high time you were married and settled into your new lordship. Shae and Ser Wilfred will go with you as your wife's knew handmaiden and the captain of your guard."

"Aye," was all he said. Then he refilled Tyrion's glass and his own. They drank some more and then Tyrion knew it was time to head back to the Rock before they were missed.

"Let us prepare to leave," he told Bronn. "But first I must take a mighty piss."

The house had no indoor privy, just a wooden outhouse in back. He stumbled out the door and it was very dark, with a cloudy sky hiding any moon or star light, with just a bit of light filtering through some windows in the village. Most of the smallfolk would be asleep by now. He found the privy with his nose, the rank smell drawing him to it. He opened the door, stepped inside, and pulled out his cock and aimed it where he thought the round hole in the wooden seat was located. When he was done and as he just finished fixing his breeches the door opened behind him, no doubt Bronn coming to see if he was safe again.

He turned. "Bronn, I told you assassins don't hide in…privies." The last word died on his lips.

It was not Bronn.

Before Tyrion could shout a rough hand was over his mouth and another grabbed the front of his doublet. He was shoved back into the stinking privy and pushed onto the seat, his ass hanging over the hole, his breeches getting a bit wet with his own piss that had missed the hole on the first try. The door swung shut behind his attacker and then the man spoke.

"Did you find the drawing of the girl?" the man asked him quickly in a strange voice in a strange accent and then Tyrion knew who it was. He nodded his head and then the hand was taken away from his mouth.

"Jaqen H'ghar, I presume," Tyrion said quietly, trying to remain calm, opening and closing his jaws wide to make sure they still worked properly after being squeezed roughly.

"One name this man has taken from time to time," said Jaqen. In the darkness Tyrion could not see his features, whether he had the long red and white hair Ned Stark said he had or still sported the curls of the Braavosi banker.

"Why are you here?" Tyrion asked. "Not to kill me or I would be dead already."

"I hear whispers, Tyrion of House Lannister. Whispers from a Spider that just reached this man's ears in King's Landing many weeks past. Whispers that said you are looking for a man to kill a red woman."

Whispers from Varys, whispers sent out ages ago, now coming home to bear fruit. Tyrion would have gladly hired him at one time. But now things were different, so very different. "Do you think I would hire you after what you have done to my family?" Tyrion snarled in anger.

"What is done is done and it is over. You pay your debts and it will not happen again. Now we are on to new business."

"A strange place you choose to conduct business." It was stinking and hot and stuffy. Tyrion hoped that Bronn would soon wonder why he was taking so long and come and kill this assassin.

"You are not an easy man to see. Especially after what happened three nights past."

"You could have come to me before you killed all those people!"

"And you could have paid the realm's debts without humiliating the Iron Bank. Did not your sister pass on this man's message?"

"She did. What I did was ill done. But you did worse!" Where are you Bronn? And then Tyrion got a terrible feeling. "Did you…my men…the girl?" His heart was in his throat and he could barely get out the words.

"Your man Bronn is asleep at the table, with my help, a slight concoction that will give him headaches and nothing more. He will awake after some time, time enough for us to talk. The others sleep on their own so there was no need to help them."

Now Tyrion grew angrier. "You think I will do business with you after all this?"

Jaqen H'ghar shrugged in the darkness. "Business is business. Do you want to win this war, Tyrion of House Lannister? Save your house? Your family? The girl?"

"I…I do," he finally said after a long moment of silence.

"Then allow this man to help you. We have never met before, in this guise, but it is certain Eddard or Arya Stark told you about this man. I left the drawing of Arya Stark so you would know it was truly this man. So you would know this man is what he claims to be. This man will go to King's Landing again. The red woman will received the gift of death. The flower's children will be free."

"How…how did you know about them?"

"Whispers tell this man these things. You want them free. You want their father's army to join yours? Yes?"

"Yes," he said, resigned to this course of action. If they won the war maybe Tyrion could quip in later years it was won with a deal made on a dark night in a stinking privy. But there was still one more head he wanted. "What about Stannis?"

"This man cannot kill a king."

"Why not?"

"It is not permitted to strike down such a man. We give the gift of death to those who ask or the enemies of those who pay. But we have rules about who we kill or not. We do not accept all contracts. This man's orders are to kill no kings."

"Stannis is a false king," Tyrion said.

"No more than your sister and brother's son."

Tyrion grunted. Of course he knew about that. "No kings then. On either side."

"For certain. Do you wish the red woman to die and the flower's children to be freed?" Jaqen asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Then you must pay."

He knew it would come to this. "What does such a service cost?"

"One hundred thousand gold dragons to begin. Four hundred more when the deed is done. Add it to the realm's previous debts."

"Make this one to House Lannister."

"As you wish."

"You plan to carry one hundred thousand dragons in your saddle bags?"

"No. A ship will leave Lannisport in a few days. The captain is Braavosi. You will give him this sum, or there will be no contract between us."

"And how long must I wait for you to fulfill your part of the bargain?"

"It may take a moon's turn, maybe more. But it will be done."

Then Tyrion remembered something about this man. "You were once a prisoner in the black cells. How can I trust you to do as you say without getting caught again?"

"Tyrion of House Lannister, know this. This man was in the black cells of the Red Keep because this man wanted to be there."

The answer shocked him into silence for a moment. "But…why?"

Tyrion could see the outline of the head shake in the darkness. "The why is not for you to know. Just know that this man will do as he said he would do. If you doubt this man's abilities, think on what was done three nights past."

Tyrion sighed. "I do not doubt your abilities."

"Good. Then you will undertake this contract with this man?"

"I will," Tyrion said, knowing full well it would mean his head if Cersei or Jaime or anyone else found out he was dealing with the very man who had killed their own people. "The gold shall be put aboard the ship tomorrow night. What is its name?"

"_The Sailor's Wife_. Goodbye, Tyrion of House Lannister. You will know this man has fulfilled the contract when you hear good news from King's Landing."

He backed out of the privy without another word and then the door banged closed again. He was gone.

Tyrion sat for a long moment, gasped for breath and took in a lungful of stench and foulness. He leaped for the door and then fell to his knees in the dirt outside, sucking in great lungfuls of fresh air. He staggered to his feet and went to the house. Bronn was sitting in his chair, sound asleep, with no signs of how the assassin had knocked him out. Pod was still where he was, as was Ser Wilfred, both still alive. Tyrion dashed upstairs and found Shae sound asleep as well.

Tyrion sat on the bed and then took off his boots and lay down with her for a long time as she slept and he thought on the bargain he had made with a demon from across the Narrow Sea and all of its implications.

There was only one person he could trust with such information. The one person everyone else said wasn't trustworthy.

He put his boots back on and went downstairs and found a basin of water in the kitchen. He took it to the main room and threw the water in Bronn's face. The sellsword stirred but did not awake fully. Tyrion slapped his face twice and then as he raised his hand for a third blow Bronn's hand came up and grabbed Tyrion's.

"You ever slap me again dwarf I'll make you shorter by a head," the sellsword growled and Tyrion grinned and laughed. Bronn let go of his hand and then realized he was all wet.

"What the fuck is going on?" he snarled in rage as he shook the water from his lank black hair.

Tyrion poured some wine and gave a glassful to Bronn. "Let us drink, my friend. And then I will tell you how we are going to win the war."


	8. Chapter 8 Robb

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 8 Robb**

The scars of the battle were fresh on the snow strewn ground inside and outside of the wildling's main forest camp. Hundreds of wildlings, a mix of men, women, and children, with a few old crones and stooped grandfathers who had seen too many winters and too many battles, all stood in silence and eyed Robb Stark, his direwolf Grey Wind, his father Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, the Greatjon Umber, and the wildling woman Osha as they rode their horses through the camp on their way to meet with Mance Rayder. They were led by Rattleshirt, on his own shaggy horse, and Robb had a feeling if the Lord of Bones hadn't escorted them many of the wildlings would have lifted their weapons in anger and might have used them.

The stench of smoke and burnt flesh hung in the air as a pile of dead bodies, wildlings and wights, was being torched just outside of the camp. Robb could see a ring of burnt trees outside a perimeter made of barricades of fallen timber which was also scorched and burnt in places. There was blood on the fresh fallen white snow in many spots inside the perimeter, no doubt places where wights and Others had managed to penetrate the camp and kill wildlings.

"Hell of a battle," the Greatjon observed as Rattleshirt escorted them to Mance Rayder's tent, one of many tents Robb could see amongst the trees, all made of animal furs and skins. The camp was spread out over a wide area and Robb was uncertain how many wildlings there were. Jon had said thousands but the forest made it hard to count them in any great number.

"It's not over yet," Rattleshirt said through clenched teeth. "They're still out there, waiting to attack again."

Wights and the Others he meant, and Robb looked to the trees as Rattleshirt said this and almost felt as if someone or something was looking back at him. Then he got a real shock, as he saw his first mammoth up close. It was large and hairy and even from far away he could smell its rankness. Standing next to it Robb thought was a man at first but then he realized it was a giant. His hairy pelt made him look like he was covered in furs. He had large feet all covered in what looked like rough horny skin. The giant had been sitting down, but then he stood up and Robb saw how tall the giant really was. He looked to the Greatjon, who was taller than most men in the Seven Kingdoms, say perhaps Gregor Clegane.

"At least now you can say there is someone you can look up to," Robb joked.

"Aye," said the Greatjon as he looked at the giant. "Bloody big, ain't they?"

"And stupid," said Osha, a comment which got her a sharp looked from Rattleshirt as he stopped his horse and turned around.

"What else have you told these southerners and the crows about our kind, woman?"

"What I tell them is my business, Lord of Bones, not yours."

"Maybe we gut you so you don't tell them no more."

"Maybe you can try," Osha said, her eyes hard and her hand gripping her spear, ready to drop it level at Rattleshirt's chest.

"Stay your hand," said Ned Stark to her. "We want no quarrel here."

"Listen to your lord, knee bender," Rattleshirt growled at Osha, his tone filled with contempt. She said nothing but Robb could see the anger in her eyes.

A few moments more and they were at Mance Rayder's tent and they climbed off their horses. Outside were several large men with spears, guards it appeared. Rattleshirt went inside and left them to wait. As they waited Robb thought on all that had happened since the night before.

Robb and the others had come through the tunnel under the Wall at first light on the morning after the great fight. After observing the attack from the Wall, Lord Stark demanded that Ser Alliser Thorne give the order to unblock the tunnel under the Wall. Thorne had hesitated a moment and then, perhaps thinking how Ned Stark had almost thrown him off the Wall, gave his consent. The builders of the Night's Watch spent the whole night unblocking the tunnel of its barriers of ice and stone and twisted iron gates. When dawn came the job was done and Ned led his little party through and out the other side of the Wall. The storm from the day before had abated and now the field was covered by fresh snow.

While under the ice of the Wall Robb felt an extreme sense of helplessness. The massive weight of seven hundred feet of ice and stone was above his head in the narrow space. He looked behind him at Osha as they led their horses through and in the light of a torch he held he could see she felt the same way.

"We'll be out soon," he said, more to reassure himself than her.

"Aye," was all she said, her wide eyes looking at the icy ceiling above their heads. Some of the ice was dripping water where the torches got too close. Once out the other side they deposited their torches in a snow filled iron basket by the tunnel door.

None of the Night's Watch came with them except Sam Tarly, who was under strict instructions not to talk to any wildlings. He walked behind Robb and Osha, also looking with fear in his eyes at the icy ceiling above their heads. Robb had met Sam on the road to Castle Black, and at first he wondered how such a fat craven man could end up being a member of the Watch. Later his father told him Sam was the great warrior Randyll Tarly's first born son. Then at Castle Black Jon told him the whole story, how Sam had been given a choice: die, or renounced his inheritance and go to the Wall and take the black.

As the first born son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell Robb knew full well the responsibilities that came with being a great lord's heir, more so than his own father even, who was second born and never expected to inherit Winterfell. All his life Robb had been told he would some day be Lord of Winterfell. His father prepared him as best he could and when the time came to test himself Robb was confident and led the men of the North in battle even though he had not yet counted sixteen name days.

Sam Tarly would never get that chance, or inherit his father's titles and lands, or be named a lord, or be counted among the great lords of the realm. Robb wondered how Randyll Tarly raised his son for him to turn out as he was. Sam was not a bad person, in no such way. In fact, from what Robb saw of Sam and what Jon told him, Sam was too nice, too gentle, too unwilling to harm anyone or anything. And that would not do for the son of a great lord.

Robb knew all men could not be brave, no matter how much they wanted to be. In his battles he had seen men run, had seen men scream in terror and flee, dropping their weapons and shields so they could run faster. Cravens, others called them after, and Robb also felt some contempt for those that had run. But Robb had also been afraid before that first fight in the Whispering Wood, feared he would be unmanned, feared he would piss his breeches or lose control of his bowels, feared he could not live up to his inheritance. Yet he did, control his fears and he fought and he killed men. He did not know why he could do it and men like Sam could not. Maybe only the gods knew.

In some ways Robb was glad Randyll Tarly had sent his son to the Wall. He had become Jon's friend and helped save Jon from the cruelty of the ice cell. Robb had never met Randyll Tarly but if he ever did he would have to set him straight on the worth of his son. No man who faced what Sam and his black brothers faced on the Fist of the First Men or in the retreat could ever be called a craven. Sam had killed an Other, and who else could claim that? The way he told the story it seemed it was more terror than bravery that made him thrust his dragon glass dagger home. Yet he had still done it.

Sam was added to their little party at the insistence of Ser Alliser. Sam's job was to go with Lord Stark and listen as he talked to Mance Rayder. Thorne did not trust Lord Stark and anyone else in the party, Robb knew, and wanted one of his own men there to hear it all at this second meeting. Sam had been picked because he listened well and seemed fairly intelligent, but also because Thorne considered him a craven and a weakling and would not be missed if the wildlings decided to kill them all. Robb seemed to understand this and he was sure his father did too. Maybe Sam did understand this as well, turning a little pale when Thorne ordered him to go with them.

Soon they emerged from the northern exit of the tunnel. All around the exit were signs of battle, visible even under the new layer of snow. Piles of broken stone and the remains of smashed wooden barrels. The shattered remains of a shield shell made of wood was also present, reminding Robb of the shield shell Gendry had made for their attack on Moat Cailin. Mixed into the snow and wood and dirt were bits of clothing, with splotches of blood on the wooden shield shell, and some broken spear shafts sticking up from the snow.

The five of them began to climb on their horses as they emerged from the tunnel and Grey Wind came up beside them. Robb ruffled Grey Wind's fur just before he got on his horse. As he did so he felt an unexpected disorientation as he was suddenly inside Grey Wind's mind and for a brief moment he felt that sensation he had when he had died.

Robb had died, for a few minutes, and he knew that it had marked him, perhaps forever. The pain of the sword thrust from Ramsey Snow had been agonizing and when he felt his life ebbing away and the blackness came to his eyes it been a relief. Then suddenly the blackness was gone and he was seeing through Grey Wind's eyes. And then Arya was there talking to him.

She had saved him, her words and her voice had kept him in the world. He was cold inside Grey Wind. Not like the other times when he felt warmth and the sensations Grey Wind felt, the smells of animals and other people, the taste of flesh when he attacked. This time all he felt was coldness. Then as Grey Wind he had followed his weeping family into the Great Keep of Winterfell as Gendry and the Greatjon carried his body. Soon he was talking to Arya again and she told him he had to rejoin his body, his human body, if he wanted to live. Robb was reluctant but as he saw his family and wife there in that dark room, their eyes red with tears, and he knew he had to do it for them if not himself. Soon he was back inside his own body and felt that pain, agonizing pain again, followed by a sensation of fire in his lungs and then his heart beat once, twice, and he drew in that first breath and life came to him. The pain did not go away, but in days it did and within a week he was up and walking.

Now north of the Wall he felt the connection again, cold at first but then warmth as he felt the heat of Grey Wind's blood flowing through his body. It was all over in a moment or two. He stumbled a bit, and felt himself falling and then a hand was on his back and he came back to himself.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked him with concern as he helped Robb steady himself.

"I'm fine," Robb said to him, a bit too roughly, as he could see from Sam's reaction, a quick look away and downcast eyes. "Sorry…just stumbled."

"Not to worry," Sam said as he grinned and looked up again. He bent to Grey Wind and ruffled his fur as well. Grey Wind growled but then playfully turned and let Sam pet him and scratch his nose.

"He likes you," Robb said as he climbed on his horse. "Most people he would bite their hand off."

"Aye," said the Greatjon, holding up his maimed hand for Sam to see. "He's had a taste of mine."

Sam seem to pale a bit as he saw the Greatjon's hand with its missing fingers. Then Ned ordered Sam on his horse and soon they were moving across the snowy field.

Behind them more men had poured out of the tunnel, all on foot, carrying timbers and baskets of stone. Other men came with arrows and bows and spears and swords. One hundred in all, all men of the North, with Steelshanks Walton in command and Thoros and Dondarrion his seconds. Some men immediately began to build a rough semi-circular barrier of stone and timber on the north side of the Wall in front of the tunnel. The archers and spear men formed a protective shield while the others worked.

As Robb and the others in the party came to the place where they had met the wildlings the previous time, only one came out to meet them, Rattleshirt, dressed in his finery of bones and furs.

"Come," he said brusquely from horseback. "Mance wants words, but not here."

"And not in your camp, either," answered Ned in a sharp tone.

Rattleshirt grunted. "I told Mance you would say that. He said to tell you that if you want an alliance you had best start trusting us."

The Greatjon spit. "Trust you lot? Not a chance in hell."

"Then why should we trust you?" Rattleshirt retorted. "Mance blew his horn till his lungs near burst last night and where were you lot with your promises of help while we fought and died?"

"We made no such promises yet," Robb told him.

"How many died?" his father asked in a calm tone, surprising Robb, who had expected him to take up Robb's own line of argument.

"Many…too many," Rattleshirt said and they could hear the anguish in his voice.

"What of the enemy?" Osha asked.

"The wights we burned where we could," he told them. "The Others…nothing can kill them. Fire drives them off…that is all."

"We may know how to stop them," Ned told him. "One of the Night's Watch men killed an Other while retreating from the Fist."

Rattleshirt looked at him in distrust. "So you say."

"Ask him yourself," Ned replied. He looked over at Sam. "He's right here."

Rattleshirt looked at Sam and snorted. "Him? Looks more like a ball of fur than man. You killed an Other?"

"Yes, I did," Sam said and he tried to sound strong and brave but his voice was still little more than a squeak.

Rattleshirt just grunted. "So you say, crow." He turned back to Ned. "Come, the day is wasting and night will be here eventually."

"We will come," Ned told him. "But know that if any harm comes to us, you and your free folk are on your own and may the Others take you all."

"We are not fools, Ned Stark. We know we need you. None will be harmed. Come," Then he looked back at Sam intently. "But not the fat crow who says he killed an Other. You stay here. No crows allowed."

With that Rattleshirt turned around on his shaggy horse and began to head for the woods.

"Go back to the Wall," Ned told Sam. "Tell Walton and the others what we are doing."

"Yes, my lord," Sam replied. "But…Thorne told me to stay with you."

"No crows allowed," Osha told him in a gruff tone and she glared at him. "Or do you want to become a prisoner of the free folk? They may not harm us but they may take you or even kill you. They hate all you black crows."

"Enough of that Osha," Ned told her sharply and Osha only grunted and turned away. Robb thought she was a bit hard on Sam. Or maybe she was just mad because Robb's father had ordered her to care for Gilly and the baby while in Castle Black and as she said the night before she was no wet nurse. Sam had brought the girl Gilly and her babe through the Wall and to Castle Black. Jon said Sam liked her a lot, maybe more than liked her, and Robb and Jon had both agreed that was trouble waiting to happen. While they were gone, Sam asked his friend Grenn and Pyp to watch over the wildling girl and her babe, knowing he could thrust them to not lay a hand on her.

Ned turned back to Sam. "Do as I say Samwell Tarly and go back to the Wall. Not to worry. We will be well. Tell Thorne I will truthfully report everything that is said. As I did last time."

With that they started after Rattleshirt through the snowy field, leaving Sam behind them, and he soon turned back for the Wall.

Now outside of Mance Rayder's tent, Robb came back to the present. As the wait grew longer Robb stamped his feet in the snow. There was a cooking fire nearby and some wildling women were roasting some kind of meat on spits over the fire while some men stood nearby, eager for the food. The sight and smell made Robb's stomach grumble.

"I thought you women were all 'free folk' as well," said the Greatjon in jest to Osha. "Looks like the women do all the cooking north of the Wall as well."

"Not all women have the stomach to be spear wives," she retorted, but with no anger in voice. "Even if she fights him as he drags her away from her family, some women still want a man to look after them and protect them."

"But not you?" Robb asked.

"Open your eyes, Lord of Stark. No man owns me."

"Yet you cooked and cleaned for us at Winterfell."

She started at him for a long moment. Osha was tall, taller than most women Robb had ever met, and she was at eye level with him. "You know why I did what I did. I bent the knee so I could live another day and not be torn apart by your beast. Doesn't mean I liked it. And this is no broom I now hold in my hands." As she said the last she thrust out her spear.

Suddenly Robb's father entered the conversation. "Osha has proved her worth to our family, Robb. Let the past rest."

"Aye, Father," Robb said, feeling a slight sting from the rebuke, but knowing he was right.

Before Robb could think more on this, Rattleshirt came out of the tent and looked at Ned. "You, Stark, Mance will see you. The rest wait here."

"Like hell," the Greatjon growled.

"He's not going in there alone," Robb added swiftly.

Rattleshirt considered it for a moment. "You two Starks then. No one else."

Ned entered right behind Rattleshirt and Robb followed them. It took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The tent smelled of burning peat and stale sweat…and blood. As Robb's eyes grew accustomed to the darkness he realized why Mance Rayder had not come to see them.

He was wounded, and was propped up on a pile of furs and pillows. His upper body was exposed and a bloody linen bandage was wrapped around him, the blood on the right side by his ribs below the armpit. Even in the gloom Robb could tell he was pale and in pain, he face bathed in sweat and his eyes cloudy and yellowish.

Beside him sat two women, one young and blond and very beautiful. She had a big belly, obviously with child. The other was an old crone, a wildling woman with wispy white hair and skin like aged parchment. She had a wooden cup in her hand and was grinding up something in it with a rounded stick. By her side was a leather bag and she dipped her hand in and took out something green and leafy. She sprinkled it in the cup and went on grinding.

Bedsides the two women by Mance there were two others. Tormund Giantsbane and a young, blond beautiful wildling girl who looked like the one with child. Maybe they were sisters, Robb thought, and he could not help but stare at the second one as his eyes roved around the tent. And then he felt a twinge of shame as he looked away. He was married and his own wife was with child.

"Do not feel bad, Robb Stark," said Mance in a weak voice. "Many a good man has lost his heart to Val."

"And his prick too," said Tormund with a great guffaw. "Either between her legs or from her knife."

"You'll be next if you don't stay quiet, Husband to Bears," the girl named Val shot back to Tormund. "Mance doesn't need to hear your booming noise."

Robb looked to his father and saw he wasn't even listening to all the banter. He had eyes only for Mance Rayder. "How bad?"

The old crone spoke up. "A sword thrust between the ribs, up high," she said in a croak that passed for her voice. "I've seen worse. He will live."

Mance smiled weakly. "So now you know why we could not meet as before. Stark…I want…." Then he coughed and a small bit of blood dribbled from his lips. The pregnant girl quickly wiped it away with a cloth. "Thank you, my love," Mance said to her and she smiled weakly, and there was fear in her eyes. "Val's sister, Dalla. My wife," Mance explained to the Starks. "Soon to bear my son."

"Or daughter," Dalla said quickly.

"Yes," Mance said to her with another weak smile. He turned back to the Starks. "Why did you not come when we called?"

"The tunnel was still blocked," Ned told him. "The Night's Watch spent all night unblocking it."

"As I feared," Mance replied. "They did so reluctantly, I am sure."

"Aye," Ned answered.

"What of my proposal for my people to settle on the Gift?"

"No answer yet. They are quibbling over whether they should hang you or welcome you with open arms."

Mance laughed and it only made him cough some more and more blood dribbled from his lips. The crone turned and gave Robb's father a sharp look.

"Make it quick," she said. "He must rest." She went on with her grinding.

"They are divided on whether to offer passage under the Wall," Ned told them. "They are without a commander, one voice to lead them, so Maester Aemon suggested they must first vote for a new lord commander."

"That will take time," Mance said.

Rattleshirt spat. "The crows are just wasting time. I knew they would not accept us. They will let us die out here while they sit safe behind and on their bloody Wall. We should kill these ones and attack. Now, while the tunnel is open."

Robb's hand went to his sword hilt without even thinking about it. "You try to kill us and you will all die, here, or in the tunnel, or even south of the Wall. Somewhere, somehow."

Rattleshirt's hand was on his own weapon and for a second the two stared at each other, while no one else made a move. "Careful, Lord of Bones," said Mance at last. "Young Robb may not look old enough to hold that sword but he has bested both Tywin Lannister and his son the Kingslayer."

"Who are they but southern knee benders," Rattleshirt growled, but his hand came off his sword hilt.

"They are the best of the south," Mance replied.

"Were," Ned Stark told him. "Tywin Lannister is dead."

"Yes, we have heard that," Mance said. "Even here." He seemed about to speak again but then a spasm of pain hit him and his face grimaced. The old crone glare at the Starks in anger.

"Quick with your talk and be gone," she snarled. She had finished with her grinding and the girl Val took a kettle of water off a brazier and filled the wooden cup as the old crone stirred the contents.

"Beg pardon," Ned said to her and then spoke to Mance. "What of our offer, to join forces to fight the wights and Others?"

"My horn last night was your answer, Lord Stark."

"Aye," Ned replied. "What do you suggest we do now?"

"At least let the old ones and the children through the Wall."

"And give us good men with oil and fire to fight our enemies," Tormund added.

"I can do that much," Ned answered Tormund. "As for letting the young and old through the Wall I can only suggest it. The Wall is the Watch's to command. I have no say in its doings."

"There is no need to tell me that, Lord Stark," Mance said.

"We had best go if we are to take your words to the Watch and make plans before dark comes," Ned told him and Mance only nodded and moments later they were outside.

"Say nothing," Ned quickly said to Robb in a low voice as they stepped out and the Greatjon and Osha approached them. Grey Wind was also there, running up to Robb. As Robb ruffled his fur again he looked at all of the wildlings nearby Mance's tent and he finally understood what they were doing. It was a death watch, a vigil, for their fallen leader. He wasn't dead yet, but maybe they think he soon will be.

"What news, Ned?" The Greatjon asked right away.

"Later," Ned told his old friend. "Let us away. We have much to do."

Rattleshirt stood nearby. "You know the way." Then he went back into the tent.

They were but a short distance from Mance Rayder's tent when Robb heard a voice behind them. "Lord Stark!'

It was the beauty Val, running through the camp towards them. She stopped short of their horses. "Lord Stark, I need have words."

"Then say them," Ned commanded, looking down on her from up high on his horse.

"There is an old healer in Castle Black?"

Robb could see his father hesitate for a moment before speaking. "Aye."

"He will die without him. Mance told me to tell you this. The old woman knows the old ways of healing but she does not know all. Please…I…I ask you to save him."

"What's all this?" the Greatjon asked and Ned sighed.

"Mance Rayder was wounded last night. It looks bad. He could die."

"If he dies, then who will command?" Robb asked Val.

She shook her head. "I know not. Rattleshirt, Harma, Tormund…they will fight for the right. It will split our people. And we will all die when the Others come back. Then maybe you as well."

"I will do what I can," Ned told her. "But do not hold out hope for the healer of the Watch. The men of the Watch would sooner see Mance dead and your people as well. If you pray to any gods, then you had best do so."

"Our gods are the old gods, the gods of the First Men, the same as you men of the North," she said, her eyes hard and determined. "We are not so different after all, Lord Stark." Then she turned around and they did the same. In a short time they were out of the camp and heading toward the Wall. As they rode Robb's father explained what they had seen and heard in Mance's tent.

"If Mance dies," Osha began after he finished. "They will scatter."

"That's what Ser Alliser wants," Robb said.

"Aye," his father said wearily. "We keep all this to ourselves."

They agreed and were soon back at the Wall. Sam and Walton were there waiting for them behind the barrier.

"What news, Lord Stark?" Walton asked as Ned climbed off his horse and one of his men ran out to take the bridle.

"News there is," Ned told Walton as Thoros and Dondarrion also came over. "They survived the night but may not another." Ned looked at Thoros. "You love fire, do you not?" Ned asked the once fat priest, now a shadow of his former girth.

"You know too well I do," Thoros answered.

"Good," Ned replied. "You will take one hundred men and many barrels of that oil we brought. Make torches as well, and prepare fire arrows. Lord Dondarrion, I would ask you to go with him."

"Yes, Lord Stark," Dondarrion answered. "But where are we going?"

"To the wildling camp, to help defend them against the wights and Others."

For a moment Robb wondered if they would agree. Ned Stark was not Thoros and Dondarrion's liege lord. But he was Warden of the North and they were subjects of the realm. Dondarrion and Thoros had both followed his commands when he was Hand of the King and had agreed to come to the Wall as well. Dondarrion immediately agreed and Thoros broke into a broad grin. "Aye," he said. "I would relish the chance to show these wildlings how the Lord of Light fights his enemies with the fire he blesses us with."

"Careful how much religion you spout," the Greatjon warned. "The wildlings might just toss you on one of your fires to see you scream to your god."

Thoros seemed unperturbed. "Then I shall died bringing his word to those who need it most."

"If you can help them without too much…prayer…I would be most grateful," Ned asked him.

"As you wish, Lord Stark," Thoros said.

Soon Thoros and Dondarrion headed back in the tunnel led by the Greatjon and Osha. Ned stayed for a few more moments to talk to Walton and the men about the defenses. Sam sidled up to Robb.

"What did Mance Rayder say?"

"They want our help."

"That's all?"

"No. They think the Others will attack again tonight."

Sam seemed to pale at this news. "Did you tell them how I killed one of them?"

Robb shook his head. "No, we did not talk on that matter."

"Time to go report to the Ser Alliser," Ned told them as he finished talking to Walton.

They picked up torches, lit them and were soon leading their horses into the tunnel, with Grey Wind loping beside them. When they were halfway though, Ned stopped and turned to Sam. "We need have words Sam Tarly."

"Yes, my lord?" Sam said and Robb could see he looked worried.

"I am trusting you with certain information. Information that I do not want you to share with anyone, least of all Ser Alliser. Can I count on you keeping a secret?"

"Ah…yes, my lord."

"Mance Rayder is badly wounded. He may die."

Sam blinked rapidly, his eyes going wide. "That's…good?"

"No, Sam," Ned told him in his grim way. "That is not good at all."

"If Mance dies, the wildlings will scatter," Robb explained to Sam.

"Or start fighting among themselves," Ned added. "We need them to fight the common enemy."

Sam nodded. "Then…we should help him. Maybe…maybe Maester Aemon can look…ah, check him. Help him heal."

"Can we get Maester Aemon to the wildling camp without anyone finding out?" Ned asked.

Sam gulped. "Ser Alliser will have my head and Maester Aemon's if we help Mance Rayder."

Ned snorted. "Ser Alliser is not the Lord Commander yet. If it comes to it I will protect you both. For what you have done for Jon."

"Thank you, my lord," Sam said and then he took a deep breath as if to build up his courage. "Better to go after dark."

"There is no time," Robb told him. "The wound is grievous. And do you want to be in the wildling camp when night comes?"

"No!" Sam said, his eyes wide in the torch light.

"When Thoros and Dondarrion bring the reinforcements you and Maester Aemon blend in with them. I will keep Ser Alliser busy until you are in the tunnel. Robb, go with him. If any man tries to stop you…well…you can't kill him…just make sure he understands that Grey Wind is no mere pet."

Robb grinned broadly. "Aye, Father."

A short time later they were out of the tunnel. Castle Black had been busy while they were gone. More men of the North had come up the Kingsroad, the men that had stopped short the day before during the storm. Bowen Marsh and the Greatjon were busy getting them settled and seeing the supplies they had brought were stored properly. After a brief talk with them, Robb's father went off to find Ser Alliser while Sam and Robb went to find Maester Aemon.

At first they were unable to locate him. Then they saw many of the Night's Watch heading for the dining hall.

"Sam!" came a shout behind them. It was the big lad called Grenn, one of Sam and Jon's friends. "Maester Aemon is looking for you. The count is about to begin."

"Count?" Sam asked.

"For the new Lord Commander," Grenn explained as if Sam was stupid. "You're to assist the maester."

Grenn went off and Sam went to follow but Robb grabbed his arm. "You need to find a way to tell the maester what is happening."

"I will try…but with so many others around us…"

Robb understood. "Aye. Only when he is alone. But time is pressing. Mance may not last the day."

Sam promised to do his best and ran after Grenn. More and more of the Night's Watch were heading the same way.

Robb did not follow. He was not a man of the Night's Watch and was certain he would not be welcome in the meeting. He started to look for his father, asking men he met if they had seen him, but none had. The castle was over flowing with men of the North now and Robb was about to start working to help sort them out and find them food and lodgings when he saw Jon trudging across the yard toward the dining hall, with Ghost on his heels.

"Jon!" Robb yelled as he ran up to him. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"They are voting for a new commander," Jon answered. "I must vote as well."

"If Thorne sees you he will say if you are fit to vote you are fit to try."

"Aye," Jon said grimly. "Then so be it. I cannot stand my sick bed a day more. Let what is to be done be done."

Jon started to move off but Robb grabbed his arm and whispered close. "Jon, Mance Rayder is dying!"

"What?" Jon said in disbelief and Robb quickly explained in low whispers.

"We must get the maester to him…now," Robb said when he had finished explaining. "We are sending reinforcements to the wildlings. We should send the maester with them so he blends in and is not noticed going alone."

Jon stared at him. "Robb…Maester Aemon is over one hundred years old and is blind and can barely walk. He will not blend in."

Robb knew he was right. "What should we do? If Mance dies, the wildlings will scatter or fight amongst themselves. We need them."

"Leave it to me," Jon said. "Come on." And then before Robb could say anymore Jon went off to the dining hall after telling Ghost to stay behind.

Jon had a look of determination in his eyes Robb had never seen before. All his years growing up with Jon, it had been made clear to Jon that he was not a Stark, not a true son of the Lord of Winterfell. Robb would inherit it all and Jon…and he would get nothing, and was lucky to have a bed and hot food. At least that's the way Robb's mother saw it. And it pained Jon, Robb knew, and he had often been shy and furtive, especially around Lady Stark, who looked at Jon as if he was something she found on the bottom of her shoe. They had never talked on this directly, but Robb always thought his mother was too hard on Jon. Perhaps he should say something to her when they got back to Winterfell. Or maybe not. It would do no good in the end. She would still hate him, for being born to another woman her husband had slept with.

In moments they were at the dining hall and as they were about to enter Ned Stark came out.

"Jon…feeling well?" he asked, concern in his eyes and voice.

"Yes, Father. Well enough to take my place beside my brothers."

"Aye…then best get inside."

"You and Robb need to come as well," Jon said. "You need to tell them what is going on in the wildling camp."

Ned looked to Robb. "Aye, I told him it all."

"They won't listen," Ned told Jon. "They wish him dead."

"Then we must make them see sense," Jon replied and then he pushed open the door.

Inside it was hot and stuffy and filled from wall to wall with the men of the Night's Watch. They were sitting on benches and tables or leaning against the walls. Up front stood Maester Aemon, with Sam and the old steward called Clydas beside him. Thorne and Ser Denys and Bowen Marsh were there as well. Maester Aemon was in the middle of saying something when Thorne interrupted him and glared at the new arrivals.

"So, the Bastard of Winterfell is out of his sickbed again," Thorne growled. "For good this time, or is he just on another errand for his father?"

"For good," Jon said and Thorne grinned.

"Good. Then it is time for your trial," Thorne replied and then looked at Ned and Robb. "You Starks have no place here."

"They are staying," Jon said with determination. "We have something more important to attend to first." Before Thorne or anyone else could complain Jon turned to Ned. "Explain it to them, Father. Please.'

"Aye," Ned Stark said and every eye in the hall was on him. "Mance Rayder is wounded, badly. And…"

"You did not say that earlier," Thorne interrupted sharply.

"Now you know," Robb shot back, coming to the defense of his father.

"I did not tell you because I knew you would not agree to help him," Ned told Thorne.

"Then let him die and be done with him."

Several others raised their voices in agreement. But Maester Aemon began to speak and they all went quiet, straining to hear his words.

"…Mance Rayder dies, we lose the wildlings as allies."

"We don't need them!" shouted one man. "The Wall will protect us!" Several others shouted in agreement and still more shouted them down.

"LISTEN!" Jon shouted in the din and then there was a sudden silence. "You cannot defeat the Others alone! The Wall may protect us, aye, but no one has seen the Others in eight thousand years. No one but the gods knows what will happen. We need the wildlings help!"

"Your friends help, you mean," Thorne spat.

"Are you so blind?" Jon shot back. "You're hatred of me and my father does not serve you, Ser Alliser. You would throw away a chance to defeat the common foe because of your blindness."

"That's it!" growled Thorne in anger. "Bind him in chains and let us try him now!"

But before any man could move Jon shouted once more. "Is this the man you want for your Lord Commander?"

"NO!" shouted Grenn and then many others took up the call while more tried to shout them down and voice their support of Ser Alliser.

"Men of the Watch!" Ned Stark shouted through the noise and it slowly subsided. He walked to the front of the room near the kitchens where most men could see him. "Aye, this is true, my son and I have no place in your decisions and quarrels. And it is true Jon Snow has to answer for what he did north of the Wall. But heed Maester Aemon's words. If Mance Rayder dies, the wildlings will die as well. Maybe not all of them, but enough to make sure they are no longer a threat to the Others. But if he lives and they fight, that gives us time to prepare, time to make sure the Wall is strong and will hold, time for more men to reach us. And for every wildling that dies, it means one man of the Watch does not…for now."

There was a silence for a long moment as they thought on this and Robb knew his father's words had hit home. Then Ser Denys spoke. "Lord Stark…if they fight, they will want the Gift."

"Aye, they will."

Thorne grunted. "We don't need to pay them with favors. They are already fighting…for their lives."

"But it would be the decent thing to do," Maester Aemon said. "And in time, who knows what may happen. Mayhaps the wildlings will become civilized men and their sons will become men of the Watch and the Watch will grow stronger and better protect the realm."

"From who?" Sam Tarly asked and Robb wondered what he meant and then knew. If the wildlings came south, who would the Watch need to defend the realm against? Maybe the Others still. If the Others were defeated now, would they rise again, or disappear for another eight thousand years?

"We will always have an enemy, Sam," the aged maester said. "The great enemy the legends speak of is out there, somewhere. And we will stand our watch until we are relieved. But now I believe Lord Stark has the right of it. Mance Rayder must live. I must go to him."

Thorne appeared about to argue this but then with just the barest nod of his head, he agreed. "Go with him, Tarly," Thorne ordered. "Be back before dark." He turned to the men. "The voting will begin tomorrow," he said in a loud voice. Then he looked back to Jon and this time he almost smiled. "But first, in the morning, we will have Lord Snow's trial."

"As you wish," Jon said. "Am I free until then?"

Thorne took a deep breath. "You are. But if you run, it is your head for certain."

"I took an oath," Jon retorted. "I will not run. I will be on the Wall. At my post, with my brothers. By your leave."

"Go," Thorne said to him curtly. "All of you! Out! Back to your duties!"

The men rose but waited for Maester Aemon to leave first on the arms of his assistants. Outside in the cold air Robb took a deep breath and it refreshed him after the stuffiness of the dining hall.

His father stood next to him. "Go with them, Robb. Wait for Dondarrion and Thoros to be ready. And make sure you are back before dark."

"Aye," Robb said. "Father…what if Mance dies?"

"If he looks bad, get out as soon as you can. I do not want you to become a wildling prisoner…or worse."

"Aye."

"One more thing…take Ice."

"Ice…but…oh, the Others."

"Yes, take it," said Maester Aemon as he came up beside them, with Sam and Clydas and Jon beside him. "Your blade is made of Valyrian steel is it not, Lord Stark?"

"It is, maester."

"But it is heavy and unwieldy in a fight," Jon said as he unloosened the belt of his own Valyarian steel sword Longclaw. He handed it to Robb.

Robb appreciated the gesture but knew how much that sword meant to Jon. "I…no, Jon. It is yours. The Lord Commander gave it to you."

"I won't be seeing any Others tonight. You might."

"Take it," Ned Stark commanded and Robb took it and grinned at Jon.

"I'll give it back soon."

"You'd better," Jon said with a grin. "That sword and I have been through a lot."

Just then Thoros and Dondarrion and their men started to gather nearby. "I will talk to them," Ned Stark said. "Sam, go with the maester and help him get the things he needs."

"Clydas knows what I need," Aemon said to his assistant and soon Clydas ran off to the maester's quarters.

"Jon, see to a horse for the maester," Ned commanded next.

"I cannot sit a horse, Lord Stark," Aemon confessed. "My legs have little strength left. I am afraid I would fall off if not tied down."

"Then we will tie you to it," Sam told him gently. "And I will lead the horse."

"Very well," Aemon said. He tilted his head up to the sky, his milky white eyes looking but not seeing. "It will snow again. Soon."

"That it will," Robb's father agreed as he also looked to the sky.

"Your house's words, Lord Stark," Aemon Targaryen said. "Winter is coming. Of all the houses in the realm, only yours has such words. The other houses' words speak of their triumphs, their pride, their vanity, what they will do to their enemies, how they act, how they don't act, and on and on. But only your house has a word of warning of a danger that all face. The Starks have been ever vigilant in their protection of the North and the realm. Let us do what we must to make sure that remains true, even as a winter none has ever seen before comes down on us."

"We will do our duty," Ned Stark told him quietly as more men of the Watch walked by them. "But will the rest of the realm?"

"I have sent birds to all the great houses," Aemon told him.

"Then we can only hope they heed your words," Ned replied.

"It is time to go, Father," Robb said and soon they all moved off to do what they could to prepare.

Robb and his father went over to see Thoros and Dondarrion who had their hundred men in tow and several barrels of oil and some supplies of food on a small cart. Included in the group were the few men that had come north to Winterfell with Thoros and Dondarrion, all of them followers of the Lord of Light now.

"Any more orders, Lord Stark?" Dondarrion asked right away.

"One more, Lord Beric," Ned began. "I would send more men if I could but most of them coming in have been on the road for almost a fortnight now and are tired and hungry. You and these men are all I can spare at the moment. And you are not so easy to replace. If things get desperate, and we cannot reinforce you, you head for the Wall, and stand with Walton's men and protect the tunnel until we can get there."

Thoros grunted. "The Lord of Light's fires will keep these demons at bay, rest assured Lord Stark."

"Aye, that may be so," Ned said, and Robb truly hoped it was so. "But no man among you has ever faced the wights and Others."

"That is true," Dondarrion said, his face grim. Robb looked at him and he was still pale as snow and the scars on his face and head and neck made him almost seem as if he was dead. He had been dead, several times, according to the stories Thoros and the other men had told. Robb knew what that was like, having journeyed in the cold lands of death himself for a brief time. Perhaps it was time he and Dondarrion had a long talk on that. But not now.

"I am coming with you," Robb explained. "As is Sam Tarly and Maester Aemon."

"The maester?" asked Thoros in puzzlement and they quickly told them what was happening.

"This is bad news," grumbled Thoros. "If he dies…what then?"

Ned Stark stared at him intently. "Can you do it again if you must?"

"Do…? Aye...I can, but it will take much out of me."

"I would not ask but we need him living," Ned told him. "What you did for Lord Beric and for Robb…I can never repay you enough and …"

"I need no payment," Thoros said. "Just a glass of wine, a full belly, and the Lord of Light in my heart is enough payment."

"Nevertheless you have mine and my family's gratitude," Ned told him.

"Mine especially," Robb said, and there was no need to say more. Thoros had saved his life and for that the once rotund priest would have a place in Winterfell until the end of his days.

Thoros smiled broadly. "And you Starks have my gratitude as well. You took me here, to where the true enemy is. I will gladly fight him and his minions with the fires of my Lord."

There was no more to be said after that and in a short time the strange group was heading through the Wall tunnel. After one last look of assurance from his father, Robb led the party through the tunnel. Robb had slung Longclaw over his back and had his own sword at his side. Grey Wind loped alongside of him. Maester Aemon was tied to a horse and Sam led it. The rest came behind them.

Soon they were through and after short words of explanation to Steelshanks Walton at the northern barrier they walked across the snowy field. The wildlings' outer guards met them and after a few words one went back to the camp. In moments Tormund came out on his horse.

"Come quickly," he said, his face and words grim. "He is getting worse."

A short time later they were in the main wildling camp again and heading for Mance's tent. Rattleshirt was outside with Val.

"You may be too late, old crow," Rattleshirt said to Aemon as Sam and Robb helped him off the horse.

"Then I will ease his pain at least," Aemon said.

Sam went to help Aemon to the tent but Rattleshirt did not move from in front of the entrance. He stared at them, his eyes hard as stone. "Crows…if Mance dies…you may as well."

Robb went to protest this but Val beat him to it. "You fool! They want to help us! You just want him to die so you can take over!"

"Quiet woman!"

She laughed at him. "If you want me quiet then cut out my tongue."

"You tempt me sorely to do so," Rattleshirt grunted. Then he stepped aside. "In you go."

Sam and Aemon went inside. Robb went to join them but Rattleshirt stepped in front of him. "No, Stark. We need to see to the defenses. Come."

After introducing Thoros and Dondarrion, Rattleshirt and Tormund led them around the perimeter of the wildling encampment. Robb finally understood that they had several encampments and that this was just the main one. For all his efforts to join the wildlings as one force, Mance Rayder still failed somewhat. The different tribes and sometimes families had their own little encampments. Most of the main fighting force was with Mance, as were the giants and mammoths.

"Piss on the rest of them out there," said Rattleshirt as he waved his arms off through the forest. "They argue and argue and never decide and soon they will all have blue eyes. I told Mance we should kill all those who did not join the main camp since we would have to kill them later when they get blue eyes anyway."

"He refused I am sure."

"Aye…still too much crow in him after all this time."

Then they came to a spot in the perimeter deepest in the forest and farthest from the Wall. It appeared the heaviest fighting had been here the night before. There were signs of fighting, broken weapons, splotches of blood, dropped torches, and burned wooden logs that formed the barrier. Grey Wind sniffed around and when he came to a big spot of blackened snow he whined and ran back to Robb.

"We burned the dead wights there," Rattleshirt said, pointing to the black spot, and now Robb could make out bits of cloth and bone in the black ashes.

"Hell of a fight," Robb commented.

"Aye," said Tormund. "This is where they got Mance."

"How?"

"Fighting the devil for his people," Tormund replied and that was all that was really needed to be said.

"I want your men here," Rattleshirt told Robb, Dondarrion and Thoros.

Dondarrion shook his head. "This is a bad position. It forms a salient and can be attacked on three sides."

"Aye," said Robb, seeing what he meant. "We should pull back the barrier a hundred feet or more and form a tighter defense.

Tormund laughed. "I told you these knee benders knew how to fight."

"We will see," said Rattleshirt with a grunt. "I don't care how you defend it, just do it."

"It will be done," Dondarrion answered.

"And we want some of that oil you brought," Tormund said, almost like a demand.

"Give him two barrels," Robb told one of the men and soon Rattleshirt and Tormund were carrying the two small barrels of oil back to the inner part of the camp.

For the next two hours Robb and the men worked at making a new barrier. Rattleshirt had the good sense to send some men to help them and the wildlings were quick to cut down some trees to make a new barrier for them. After working at this for a while, Robb ordered a break and they made fires and had some food, salted beef, roasted on sticks over their fires, some hard bread, and ale to wash it down. It was plain fare but filling.

As Robb finished his last piece of bread and tossed another chunk of beef to Grey Wind, Val came into their area. Many a man of the North looked at her in longing and she only glared back at them with contempt.

"Lord Stark, the old crow wants you."

Robb rose. "Stay, Grey Wind," he said and Grey Wind reluctantly stayed put.

She led him inside Mance's tent. All was as it was earlier, except Mance Rayder looked much worse. He was deathly pale, and his side was streak with lines of red leading from his wound and Robb knew that was bad. Maester Aemon was sitting on furs by his side with the old crone next to him and Sam nearby. Mance's woman Dalla had a cloth and wiped sweat from Mance's forehead and blood from his lips.

Sam stood and came to him. "Maester Aemon said the sword cut into his lung. He's bleeding inside his lung and…we cannot stop it. Now the wound is filled with corruption. He gave him a fresh poultice and milk of the poppy for the pain. But the maester said that the old woman did as much as he can do. She knows the ways of healing just as well."

"Then only the gods can save him now," Robb said solemnly.

"Stark," came a weak voice. It was Mance. Robb went to his side and sat on the furs.

"I am here," Robb said.

Mance nodded slowly. "Good…you have …" Then he coughed and more blood came up.

Dalla wiped it away and was near tears. "You mustn't speak."

"I must," he said. "You have Jon Snow's sword?"

"Aye," Robb answered. "He gave it to me in case…in case I meet an Other."

"How…?"

"The blade," Aemon told him. "Valyrian steel. Dragon steel. We think it can kill them."

"How can you kill what is not alive?" Val asked, the skepticism clear in her tone.

Maester Aemon spoke. "Tell them, Sam"

Sam gulped. "I killed an Other."

Val laughed in scorn. "They cannot be killed."

"He did," Robb said, coming to Sam's defense. "With a dragon glass dagger."

"Dragon glass?" Dalla asked in puzzlement.

Sam took his dagger from his belt, where it was next to a small horn, and showed them. "It's called obsidian. It's made in volcanoes."

"Made from fire," Aemon added. "Tell them the story, Sam."

So he did and the two sisters were wide-eyed with disbelief when he finished. But not the old crone.

"It is an old legend I heard when I was as young and as pretty as these two," she said. "Kill those with blue eyes with fire and glass, said the old storytellers. But we thought it a foolish story. We have no glass here in the free lands. Now it seems to be true."

"I will not believe it until I see it," Val said with a grunt and Robb hoped she never got that chance, but felt it was a vain hope.

After that he left the tent and saw many eyes looking at him as he emerged, as they still waited for news of their fallen leader. They also looked fearfully at the sky and knew the light was fading. It was only early afternoon but the days were short this far north and the nights long.

As Robb walked back to his men he pondered what to do. His father told him to have Sam and Aemon back south of the Wall before dark. But he couldn't just leave Dondarrion and Thoros and those men alone. If the Others and wights came back it would mean death for some of them. If Mance Rayder died, chaos would descend on the camp and maybe they would all become prisoners or be killed out of hand.

Back at their small section of the perimeter Thoros already had a big fire going and his men had gather much wood for the night. Other men were making torches and wrapping them in cloth, with two small barrels of oil nearby.

"How is he?" Dondarrion asked right away as Robb came to the fire and warmed his hands over it.

"Not good…he may die, soon."

Thoros sighed. "Will they let me save him if he dies?"

"We can only ask," Robb said. "Tormund may agree. Rattleshirt…I think not. Harma as well. Mance had to defeat all three for them to respect him and follow him. But it doesn't mean they forgot that they were once enemies."

Dondarrion looked at the patches of sky that they could see through the trees. "It will be dark before long, Lord Stark. You had best get the maester and Sam back to Castle Black."

Robb shook his head. "I am staying."

"Your father…" Thoros began but Robb cut him off.

"My father would not leave his men to fight a battle alone."

"You are the heir to Winterfell," Dondarrion needlessly reminded him.

"Aye, and if I fall I have two younger brothers to take my place."

Thoros grinned. "Well said, Lord Stark. But Sam and the maester should not stay."

"Aye…I will take them back."

Robb started walking back toward Mance's tent and this time Grey Wind followed. The shadows were getting longer and in the forest it was very gloomy. Robb looked behind him but Grey Wind wasn't there.

"Grey Wind!" he shouted and then he saw his tracks in the snow. Robb followed them, shouting his direwolf's name. As he walked he entered a part of the camp where there were no barriers and no tents. He suddenly knew he was outside of the camp.

"Grey Wind!"

He wanted to slip inside the direwolf to see where he was but Robb suddenly was afraid of that cold sensation he had felt last time and resisted the urge. Then Robb heard a whining sound and ran forward, the tracks still fresh in the snow. He found Grey Wind behind some small shrubs, and he was tugging at something, with his teeth buried deep in it.

"What is it boy?" Robb asked as he bent to look.

And then he knew what it was. It was a dead body, a dead wildling overlooked when they burned all the bodies this morning. It was a woman, with long brown hair and a long dagger made of bone at her side. She had a terrible wound in her stomach and her blood had frozen. She had obviously been wounded and staggered off here and later died, alone.

"Come, Grey Wind," Robb said quickly. "Let us get away from here. Come!"

Grey Wind let go but it was too late. Robb felt a sudden chill in the air and then the dead woman's eyes snapped open and they were as blue as blue could be. She started to get up as Robb stifled his screams and drew Longclaw from its sheath. As Grey Wind growled in fury Robb swung the Valyarian steel blade and caught the woman between neck and shoulder and her head was soon rolling on the ground. Her body collapsed as her head hit the snow. The eyes were still looking up at him but then they slowly turned to brown and where the blade had cut through the dead flesh it was seared as if it had been burned. Then, to Robb's amazement, the body and head began to sizzle and crackle and began to burn.

He looked at Longclaw in awe but he had no time to ponder what had just happened. Grey Wind growled in fury again and Robb suddenly saw many shadows coming from between the trees.

"Run!" he shouted and soon he and Grey Wind were flying through the snow back to the camp. In mere moments they saw tents and people and Robb shouted. "WIGHTS!"

Everyone started scrambling for weapons and there were shouts of command and fires blazed up as the wildlings prepared for the attack.

Robb and Grey Wind headed for Mance's tent as a cold misty fog began to descend on the camp. Robb felt as if his breath was taken away by the coldness. He arrived at the tent and then he saw Rattleshirt and Tormund and Harma outside it, not getting ready to fight the wights, but each other by the looks of it.

"I am done!" shouted Rattleshirt to Tormund. "To hell with the crows! And to hell with you two!"

"We cannot fight each other now!" Robb shouted. "The wights are coming back!"

Harma told him what he already suspected. "Mance is dead."

"No," Robb said in shock, not believing it. He torn open the tent flap and stepped inside.

Dalla was cradling Mance Rayder's head in her arms, weeping copiously. Her sister Val was by her side. The old crone sat with a sad look on her face. Sam and Aemon were standing by the tent flap.

Sam's eyes were wide. "The Others? Attacking now?"

"Maybe," Robb said. "Wights definitely. Is… is he dead?"

"Yes," Aemon Targaryen told him. "There was naught anyone could do for him."

"There is someone who can do something," Robb said.

"Robb…he's dead," Sam replied in confusion. "And so will we be if we don't go back to the Wall."

"He's not dead yet, Sam. I know someone who can save him. Stay here! Don't let anyone near his body or see him dead. Val! Come with me!"

"Leave us be!" she shouted. "Go back to your Wall and let us fight and die as the gods will!"

Robb came to her side. "We can still save him."

Dalla looked up, her face streaked with tears. "How? He is dead."

"So was I once. But a man saved me."

"What man?" she asked. "Where is he?"

"Here in your camp. Val, we have to go get him. We may have to fight our way there and back."

The beautiful wildling girl stood and then, as she stood, her sister suddenly shouted. "NO! Not now!"

Robb looked down and there was a puddle of pooling liquid under Dalla.

"It is her time!" said the crone.

"The baby?" Aemon asked.

"Yes," said Sam his eyes wide in shock.

"We must stay and help," Aemon stated strongly and Sam moved to help him get near the girl.

Robb could not believe all this was happening in the space of a few moments. Outside they could already hear the clash of steel and screams filled the air and someone was blowing a horn.

Val went to sit by her sister as well and Robb grabbed Val by the arm. The wildling beauty glared at him. "Listen to me!" he shouted. "If Mance is to live we have to go! I need your help!"

"I can't leave my sister!"

"Go," said the crone as she helped Dalla lie down next to her dead husband. "The crow who killed an Other will protect us."

Robb looked to Sam. "Do not leave your post."

"Aye…my lord," Sam said in a quavering voice. He stood and pulled out his dagger and his sword.

Robb grabbed Val's arm once more and she jerked away from him, but gave him a smile that could melt most men's hearts. "I hear you have a wife, Lord Stark. Better be careful how you touch me or I may just have to make you break your promises to your woman."

Robb shook his head in disbelief. "Come on! We have no time!" And he ran out of the tent and into the chaos of battle.


	9. Chapter 9 Jon

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 9 Jon**

Jon Snow and Grenn were just leaving the winch cage at the bottom of the Wall near Castle Black when they heard the first sound of a horn blowing. They both looked up and knew the sound came from the top of the Wall. All around Castle Black men stopped what they were doing and looked up as well. Then came a second blast…and then a third!

"Others!" Grenn said in fear. Jon knew what he feared, Grenn being on the retreat from the Fist of the First Men and having firsthand experience with the Others, and he had even seen Sam kill one.

"Follow me," Jon said to him and he raced to the tunnel, as did many men of the North. The Greatjon and Lord Stark were shouting orders and men were picking up spears, adjusting shields and moving toward the tunnel.

"Jon!" Ned Stark shouted to him as he raced by. "Stay here!"

"No! My brother is out there!" Jon answered, worried over what was happening with Robb and all the rest of the people out there.

"Your brothers are here as well," Ned said to him, not unkindly. "You go to that camp…the wildlings have no love for you. They know you for a turncloak. They will kill you."

"They can try," Jon said with anger. "I will not stay behind."

"Go," said a rough angry voice behind them. It was Thorne. "Go, go back to your friends," he said. "Let them deal you the justice you deserve, Lord Snow."

"He will not go alone!" Grenn told Thorne with determination.

"You'll stay right where you are, Aurochs!" Thorne ordered. He raised his voice and shouted to all those nearby who wore the black. "No man of the Watch is to join the fight unless it comes to us!" He looked back at Ned Stark. "As we agreed. You help the wildlings, we'll man the Wall."

"Aye," was all Ned said, but the look in his eyes was pure contempt for Thorne.

"I am coming," Jon told him.

His father hesitated and then nodded once. "Come. And bring Ghost as well."

Ghost was already there, as if he sensed he was needed. They moved swiftly to the tunnel, but it was narrow and it took time for men to march through it. Jon's father ordered the infantry to go first, at least two hundred men, all with spears and shields and in boiled leather and ring mail. Ned and the Greatjon led them, with Jon and Ghost. The cavalry would follow, but they would take time to get through and form up on the other side.

As they emerged from the north end of the tunnel, Jon saw nothing but white before his eyes. It was mist, he knew right away, and then he felt a chill enter his bones, as if the mist was creeping through his layers of clothing and under his chain mail, through his skin and wrapping itself around his bones.

Steelshanks Walton and his men were manning their barrier they had built from wood and stones. He yelled to Lord Stark. "It came down on us out of nowhere!"

"Torches!" Ned Stark yelled. "Light torches!"

Men moved to obey his commands. Torches were brought forth, dipped in an open barrel of oil, and quickly lit. Their flames seemed to be dim, as if they struggled to make fire in the mist. Then one by one they lit up and were passed from hand to hand. Soon almost two score troches were lit. Jon had one in his left hand and its glow and warmth gave him more confidence.

"Ned, what do we do?" bellowed the Greatjon from the right flank. "We cannot see who to fight!"

"Walton!" Ned shouted. "Stay here with your men. Protect the tunnel from all and wait for the cavalry to come through. The rest stay with me! Form a square! Lord Umber, take the right flank! Jon, take the left! I will take the van! Every man stay close to the one next to him! NOW MOVE!"

They came out from behind the barrier and formed up as he ordered and on Ned's command began to move across the snowy field. Jon had charge of the left flank and he bellowed orders to his almost fifty men to stay tight together. In his long years at Winterfell he and Robb had taken lessons from their father on war and strategy and tactics. The infantry square, with its shields locked together and deadly spears pointing out, was the best protection against cavalry charges. It would also serve to keep the wights and Others from attacking them from behind or the flank, and their many torches would keep them at bay as well. But the infantry square was not a perfect formation, and required discipline and good ground to keep its formation. Now in the mist and snow the men stumbled and staggered and some fell and had to be picked up again. They also only had a vague idea where the wildling camp was. Then Jon's father shouted from in front.

"Fire! To the red glow!"

Jon could see it now, a reddish glow coming from the mist and then…a massive black object was coming straight for them. It made a bellowing sound and Jon knew what it was.

"MAMMOTH!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. It was heading straight for them, a giant on its back, already with poor eyesight Jon knew, now totally blind in the mist, fleeing from something. On the mammoth's back were several figures, and they were hacking and slashing at the giant. It swiped a massive hand and one fell off but the mammoth kept coming at them.

"BREAK!" Ned Stark shouted and men scattered like the wind, running left and right. But some were too slow and the snow made moving more difficult. Jon saw at least one man crushed under the charging mammoth, falling down under its thick legs in a bundle of fur and shield and broken spear.

As the mammoth bellowed and lumbered past Jon, another one of the wights on its back was knocked off by the giant. In a heartbeat it was in front of Jon and he swung his sword at it and immediately knew it was a mistake. His blade was not Longclaw, but his old sword, the sword he had brought from Winterfell, the one he had used for years so it was as familiar to his arm as if it were part of it.

But his old sword from Winterfell had no power to harm a wight. It struck the wight's right arm, where it held a broken sword, and Jon's blade hewed off the arm just above the elbow. The blue-eyed wight, a former wildling in life by the looks of it, reached up and grabbed Jon by the throat with its left hand and squeezed. The torch Jon had in his other hand he shoved into the wight's belly but it only squeezed harder and Jon felt his breath going.

Then a large heavy blade flashed past his eyes and the wight's head came off its body. The head fell in the snow and the body collapsed, and to his amazement it began to burn were it was cut.

"Now we know," said Ned Stark as he held Ice two-handed while the wight's body was being consumed by fire. "Come. We must reform the ranks."

But there was no chance to reform the ranks. Their men were all over the place, some fighting wights, others trying to come back into some semblance of order. They saw the Greatjon and other men forming a line to the right. But wildlings were running past them, men, women, children, and then right in front of Jon and Ned came an old wildling man,

"The Wall!" shouted the old man. "Where is the Wall?"

"Back that way!" Jon answered and the man fled before Jon could ask him what was happening.

More people streamed past and then Jon saw a familiar large squat bulk. "Tormund!"

"Jon Snow!" the big wildling shouted. "As I live and breathe!"

"What is happening?" Ned Stark asked him.

"They fell on us, wights, Others, the mist came down, the cold came and then they were there. And…Mance is dead," Tormund said at last and Jon felt a sense of unreality, of disbelief.

"Are you certain?" Jon had once thought to kill Mance Rayder himself but now that he was truly dead he found he did not wish it to be so.

"Aye, 'tis true, Jon Snow," Tormund replied heavily and Jon could feel that the wildling was also unnerved by this news. He and Mance had once been enemies but of those who once vied for the leadership of the free folk, Tormund seemed most to have accepted Mance as leader.

"That is grievous news," Ned said solemnly. "Where are the rest of your leaders?"

"I tried to hold the others together but once Mance was dead Rattleshirt scattered with his men. Harma stayed to fight but her head was taken off by an Other. Sixskins and his beasts are in the fight out there somewhere. I am trying to rally these runners and find my own young ones. They were near here. Have you seen them, Jon Snow?"

"No," Jon told him, knowing Tormund loved his children, two sons and a daughter, and was worried about them.

"Where are my men?" Ned asked him in a hurry.

"Your men are to the farthest point north, Lord Stark."

"Is Robb with them?" Jon asked quickly.

"Aye, gone with Val to find the red priest, he told me as he ran past. He did not say why."

"To save Mance!" Jon said, understanding what Robb was doing. "We must go to Mance!"

"Take us to the camp!" Ned commanded.

"Aye. That is the plan," Tormund answered. "We go back and kill as many as we can before the gods take us to our final place of rest."

He looked around at his fleeing people. "STOP RUNNING!" he shouted and many a man stopped. "WE FIGHT! WE DON"T RUN! WE ARE THE FREE FOLK!"

Many men shouted their battle cries in return and then wildlings and Northmen and one black crow raced forward with torches and spears and swords and clubs held forth, and entered the fray in the main camp.

The fires were all on the edges of the camp, near the barriers, and here and there the forest itself was on fire as it was the night before. They entered the wildling camp and all around them Jon saw people fighting, cowering, running, dieing. Flaming arrows went through the air, giants bellowed, and mammoths ran amok. There was little organized defense except at the barriers and in places the wights had gotten through. It was hard to tell friend from foe in the mist but Jon soon realized that the wights were slower than the living and shouted this to his men. Whenever they came on a wight they shoved fire in its face or hacked off its head and arms to make it less formidable. Yet nothing but fire and Ned Stark's great Valyarian steel blade could do them real harm. Jon stayed close to his father and one by one Ned Stark slashed and hacked at wights with Ice and their bodies fell to pieces and they sizzled with fire where the blade had struck home.

The fight was not all one sided and Jon saw some Northmen and wildlings fall under the weapons of the wights. Then he got a shock as he came on a wight all dressed in black. It was Night's Watch man, one who must have fallen at the Fist or somewhere else in the forest. The wight's face was a ruin of torn flesh but he could see the piercing blue eyes. Jon could not tell who he had been when blood flowed through his body but as he came down on Jon he hesitated for a second and could not raise his sword or torch. Then he felt the air part over his head and a heavy club swung past him and took the wight in the face. The former Night's Watch man's body went tumbling across the snow. Jon looked up and saw a row of square crooked teeth in a pile of fur and knew it was a giant who had saved him. It said something in the Old Tongue which Jon could not understand or reply in but he thanked him anyway and moved on.

"STARKS!" came a shout and Jon saw Tormund bellowing from nearby a tent and he knew it was Mance Rayder's tent. With him were his two sons and daughter, all with weapons in their hands, ready to defend themselves. Jon and Ned were heading that way when suddenly the air grew twice as cold and Jon felt his breath taken away. A tall pale looking thing that was neither man nor wight was between then and Tormund. It was mounted on a horse, a horse that had chunks of flesh torn from its side, its bones showing. So this is an Other, Jon thought, and it looked more like snow and ice than flesh and bone. It screeched an inhuman battle cry and slashed at Ned Stark.

He blocked the Other's long sword with Ice as Jon hacked at the legs of the horse from one side and Tormund and his children hacked from the other side. Jon's blade knocked off one leg and Tormund another and down the horse stumbled. The Other that was on the dead horse's back fell and tumbled across the snow but was soon up. It ignored them and went right for the tent and in a moment was inside. Then came the inhuman screech again as Jon followed his father inside the large tent.

Right before their eyes the Other was melting, its pale form shimmering and collapsing. In front of it was Sam Tarly, his eyes wide and his skin pale, his hand thrusting forth his dragon glass dagger, buried deep in the Other's chest. As it raised its sword to attack Sam Jon's father thrust Ice into the Other's back and its screech doubled in intensity.

"Gods!" Jon said as Sam and his father killed the Other, which soon turned to mist and water and was gone.

Sam staggered back and fell on his rump with a thud. Jon bent to help him up but stopped as he saw what was happening in the tent.

An old woman and Maester Aemon were bent over Dalla, her face pale and sweaty, her face streaked with tears. Next to them was the body of Mance Rayder, his eyes wide and staring, lifeless.

"Who is it, Sam?" Maester Aemon asked in his quavering voice.

"Lord Stark," said Sam.

"What was that screech?"

"An Other," Jon answered. "My father and Sam killed it."

"An Other?" Maester Aemon asked and there was a sense of awe in his voice and Jon knew that the old man must be cursing his lack of eyesight more than ever now.

"Jon Snow," Dalla gasped. "You should not be here."

"Aye, I should. Where is my brother?"

"Gone with Val to find Thoros," Aemon Targaryen answered. "It is Dalla's time. The babe is coming."

"We must go back to the fight, Jon," Ned said to him and he knew he was right. "Robb will come when he comes."

"Don't leave me!" Sam almost shouted, his eyes filled with fear, as he stood up with Jon's help.

"You're a man of the Watch!" Jon shouted at him, his eyes glaring. "I order you not to be afraid! I order you to stand your post and protect these people!"

Sam gulped. "Aye…commander."

Jon felt a sudden shudder as Sam said these words. "No…I'm not…" he started to say but then his father had him by the arm and they were soon outside again. Jon only then realized he had not seen Ghost since they had left the Wall. He was pale white, as white as the mist and snow and hard to spot in such conditions.

Outside the battle seemed to be subsiding. The mist seemed to be clearing and then Tormund and his children shouted in joy. "They are turning back!" the large wildling shouted and soon Jon saw it was true. The wights were fleeing. He could see no more Others. Perhaps the one they killed had been the only one…this time.

"Ghost!" he shouted and moments later the direwolf padded out of the clearing mist, carrying a twitching arm it is jaws. "Drop it," Jon said and Ghost did as he was ordered.

"The fires for that thing," Tormund said and one of his sons kicked the still twitching arm towards a big fire that now burned higher and brighter as the mist began to clear. Jon looked up and saw that the night was upon them.

"Tormund," Ned Stark said to the wildling leader. "Can you take your people in hand until Mance is well again?"

Tormund looked at him as if he were mad. "Well again? He's dead, Lord Stark."

"Perhaps not," said a voice from the departing mist and there was Thoros, with Robb and Grey Wind and Val beside him. "Where is Mance Rayder?"

"This way," said Val, giving Jon the eye as she walked past with Tormund behind her. She was still beautiful, but her eyes were cold and hard and showed no friendliness to Jon and she said not a word.

"Bring me fire," Thoros commanded before he stepped into the tent.

Ned Stark looked at Tormund. "Take him fire. If you wish to see your leader again, do as Thoros says and do not get in his way."

"Aye," said Tormund after some hesitation. Jon knew Tormund was pondering whether to let Mance stay dead or not, wondering if he could be leader in his place. But it was just the briefest of moments, and it passed, and Tormund bent to the fire and grabbed a long stick that was ablaze on one end and carried it into the tent. His children stood before the tent flap to guard it.

Then Robb gave Ned and Jon some terrible news. "Lord Dondarrion is dead."

"What?" Jon asked in shock as his father shook his head sadly.

"How?" Ned Stark asked his eldest son.

"An Other drove a spear through him. Thoros drove it off with his flaming sword but it was too late. I arrived just as he was dieing. I told Thoros that Mance was dead. Thoros promised to return Dondarrion to life again but Dondarrion forbid it. He said they had played with the gods' will too many times and that a more important man needed saving."

"We will give him a proper funeral," Ned Stark said to them.

"No," Jon replied strongly. "We must burn him with all the other dead, now."

"Aye," was all his father answered.

All around them the wildlings were gathering their dead and throwing wight bodies and wight body parts on the fires. Even the fallen Northmen were added to the bonfires at Ned's command and soon the smell of roasting flesh was filling the air.

Ned took one knee by the fires and Jon and Robb followed as did the surviving Northmen, including the Greatjon. Many wildlings also fell to one knee and all bent their heads in silent prayer. As they prayed a large group of wildling men came into the circle of light made by the fires. They were led by the Lord of Bones.

"YOU!" shouted Rattleshirt as he spotted Jon Snow. He drew his sword and charged toward Jon with many of his men behind him. "I will have your bones before this day is through, Jon Snow!"

Robb, Ned and the Greatjon and many other Northmen drew weapons as the Greatjon thrust Jon behind his bulk. "Stay your hand, Lord of Bones!" Ned Stark shouted as he brandished Ice two-handed.

"Your bastard is a turncloak!" Rattleshirt roared. "We owe him a death, a slow and painful death!"

"Any man who comes near Jon Snow dies first!" Ned shouted back. Jon struggled to get past the Greatjon, to bury his sword in Rattleshirt's face, but the Greatjon was too strong for him.

"Stay still, laddie," the Greatjon said. Ghost growled and went to leap at the Greatjon and then he let go of Jon, who raced forward to stand by his father and brother.

"You want me, here I am!" Jon yelled to Rattleshirt. "No man will fight my own fight."

"Single combat, then you crow bastard," growled Rattleshirt. "You and me, to the death."

"As you wish," Jon growled back. "Robb, now is the time to return Longclaw."

"Aye," said Robb and he handed Jon the bastard Valyarian steel sword. It felt lighter than his old sword and he knew it was deadly, its edge honed and sharp even after hundreds of years since it had been made.

Ghost came up beside Jon and bared his fangs at Rattleshirt.

"I know how you killed the Halfhand," Rattleshirt grunted. "Your beast interferes and my men will cut you and yours to pieces."

"Ghost, stay," Jon said and the direwolf whined a bit but sat on the ground and Grey Wind came up beside him and did the same.

His father had said nothing up to this point but now lay a hand on Jon's shoulder. "You don't have to do this, Jon."

"I must or they will never let it go. This is their way."

His father seemed about to argue, his grim face full of worry, but then nodded once. "Then kill him and be quick about it."

The men cleared back and a circle of space between the two groups opened up. Rattleshirt and Jon faced each other with weapons out, and for a second it seemed as if they would come to blows. But then another man spoke, in a strong and commanding tone.

"There will be no more fighting tonight," said Mance Rayder.

They all turned around and Jon saw the clear shock on many of the wildling's faces. Mance was standing there, on his own, with Val and Tormund beside him.

"You were dead," Rattleshirt said in a bare whisper.

"Dieing but not dead, my Lord of Bones," Mance said. "I heard you fled when the fighting began."

"Whoever said that is lying and I will have his head." He was clearly looking at Tormund when he spoke.

"Perhaps I was mistaken," said Mance. "There will be no single combat with Jon Snow, now or ever. His family came to our aid and we will not repay that with his blood. See to your section of the defense. Burn the dead, ours and theirs."

With that he turned and walked back to his tent and now Jon could see he was barely staying up, and as the tent flap closed he caught a glimpse of Mance falling and Tormund catching him.

But Rattleshirt had not seen. He had eyes only for Jon. "This is not over crow, no matter what Mance says. You will pay for betraying us. We will have a sorting out."

"I look forward to it," Jon replied and then Rattleshirt and his men stalked off into the darkness.

Ned Stark ordered some men to guard Mance Rayder's tent and then he and Jon and Robb and the Greatjon went to find their own men. After a bit they came on the forested area where the Northmen had held the defensive perimeter. There they found the survivors, about two-thirds of the men that had left Castle Black earlier in the day. They were gathering their dead, hacking at the still crawling arms and legs of wights and pushing all the dead bits of their enemies towards a massive bonfire.

As Jon and the others came into the area the men all dipped their heads to Lord Stark and he began to ask about the fight and they explained as best they could. He talked with them for a bit and told those who were wounded to go back to the Wall and Castle Black if they could walk. Some men had taken more serious wounds and Ned ordered made some makeshift stretchers from tree branches and soon they were being carried back to the Wall as well.

Dondarrion's body was wrapped in a cloak and was lying nearby the fire. Ned called the men over and they stood around and many knelt and almost all removed their hats or helmets.

"Beric Dondarrion was a loyal man and a good friend to all." Ned Stark said as he looked down at Dondarrion. "It grieves me he had to die so far from his homelands. It grieves me more that I cannot send his bones home to his family. He served the realm as nobly as any man ever did. Let the gods take him and keep him safe and well for all eternity."

Two of the men that had traveled North with Dondarrion and Thoros picked up the body of their fallen leader and swung it into the fire. As the body burned Jon stared at the fire for a long time and wondered how many more men, women and children would they have to feed to the flames before their enemy was defeated. Maybe all of them, for the wights and Others were relentless. They had retreated for the moment but how long would it be before they were back. As he thought on this Jon knew there was only one solution that could solve all their problems – allow the wildlings through the Wall. But how could he convince the Watch to allow that, the very thing they had been fighting to prevent for eight thousand years?

And then he remembered what Sam had said to him, had called him in Mance Rayder's tent. That was the only solution. Thorne would never do it. Ser Denys would waver and hedge his bets and the wildlings would all be dead by the time he made up his mind. And if Cotter Pyke was chosen he would most likely demand Mance's head first before he treated with the wildlings. No, there was only one way. He turned to his father.

"Father, I must go back to the Wall. I must present myself for trial…tonight."

"Thorne said on the morrow," Ned replied.

"We cannot wait. I must clear my good name and then…then I must…I must challenge Thorne."

Robb looked at him in puzzlement. "Challenge Thorne? Jon, he is your senior and a leader of the Watch. Much as I'd like to see him dead, you cannot fight him."

"Not fight him. Challenge him…and any others who vie for the post of Lord Commander."

His father and brother's eyes widened slightly and then Ned Stark laughed, and it was a strong laugh and all the more unnerving for the man rarely laughed. Jon at first thought he was laughing at him, and he felt his face redden and his blood rise but his father was quick to allay his doubts.

"Lad, I do not laugh at you. I laugh at the absurd simplicity of your plan. If you can carry it out, it would solve many problems."

Robb looked at them like they were both mad. "Jon? Lord Commander? Have you both lost leave of your senses?"

Jon thrust out his jaw and stared at Robb. "Why not me, Robb? Because I am too young? Because I have not been a man of the Watch for as long as the others? Or is it because I am a bas…"

Before he could say that word his father was between the two of them. "Enough!" he growled, his grim demeanor back on him instantly.

Robb was taken aback, Jon could see. "Jon, I know you are capable. I just…I apologize. But…how? How can you do it?"

Jon felt his body sag. "I know not. But I must try. Or all these good men would have died for nothing. The wights and Others will not stop until they kill them all. And then the wildlings will have blue eyes as well and they all will come at the Wall. We must let the wildlings through before this happens. Before it is too late."

"Aye," said his father. "Then we had best get back to Castle Black." He turned around and looked for the Greatjon, who was helping gather more wood for the fires. "Lord Umber!"

"Aye, my lord. What orders?" the big man asked as he came up to them.

"You will take charge of the Northmen here. I will send some cavalry out as well and more food and drink. Hold the cavalry in reserve, a flying column to be thrust where there is room to move in these damn forests."

"I can do that," Lord Umber answered. "Best you tell Mance and the other leaders the plan."

"That I will," Ned Stark replied.

"We will need tents as well, Ned, if we are to stay the night."

"Aye. It will be done. Come, Robb, Jon. We must see Mance."

They walked swiftly through the camp and passed many fires and many wildlings. The news was spreading that Mance Rayder lived and Jon could sense a renewed confidence in the free folk. As they walked they saw Varamyr Sixskins, a small round shouldered man, off to the left with his beasts, a snow bear, a shadow cat, and three wolves. And there on his arm sat an eagle and Jon knew it was Orell's eagle and that part of Orell still lived inside it. Jon had killed Orell and the eagle hated him and had given him the scars on his face. Jon felt Ghost and Grey Wind bristled beside him as they passed the skinchanger and his charges. Sixskins looked his way, said nothing, but the eagle screeched at him and Jon turned his eyes away from them.

"Another enemy?" Robb asked.

"Aye," said Jon. "He likes me less than most, that is for certain. Sixskins is a warg…like us."

"I guessed as much by the company he keeps," Robb commented.

"That shadow cat would have torn him to pieces if he did not control it with his mind," Jon said. "The eagle hates me more than the others. He's the one that gave me this." Jon pointed to his scarred cheek. He had told Robb the story while he lay in his sick bed. "Someday I will trim its feathers. Or Sixskins'."

"Best forget about that," said Jon's father. "If the man dies, the beasts will go wild and kill you for certain."

"Aye, could be," was all Jon said.

They walked in silence for a few moments and then Robb spoke one word. "Sorry."

Jon knew what he meant. "It's a mad plan."

"Aye, 'tis at that," Robb answered. "But it may be all the chance we have to settle this mess."

Moments later they were back at Mance Rayder's tent and Tormund's sons let them inside. Mance was laying on his sick bed, alive but still weak from his brush with death. Nearby Dalla was going into labor and Maester Aemon and the old woman and her sister were by her side. Thoros lay nearby as well, looking tired but awake. Sam was talking with Tormund by a hot brazier.

"This crow has slain two Others," Tormund said to them, almost with some admiration for Sam, Jon felt.

"I had help with the second one," Sam said, a bit shyly, looking to Ned Stark.

"Jon Snow," Mance called from his bed. He waved Jon over with his hand and Jon approached and bent to him.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Jon said to him. Mance looked over at Thoros.

"Aye, I am here," Mance answered. "Thanks to the red priest."

"Thanks to the Lord of Light," Thoros replied in a hoarse voice from nearby. "It was his will that kept you with a glimmer of life long enough so I could do the rest."

"Mayhaps," said Mance before he turned back to Jon. "What will your brothers do now?"

"I know not…but they still want your head."

"And many of mine want yours. Rattleshirt will not be thwarted from this for long. Already I am sure he is saying to any who listen that I am a weak fool for letting you live."

"He would be right!" Val snapped, glaring at first Mance and then Jon. "How many of our people died because this crow betrayed them? Tell him, Jon Snow! Tell him who is dead because you betrayed them!"

There was a sudden silence in the tent as all eyes were on Jon and Val. "Many died, ours and yours," Jon said at last.

"You were once one of us," Val shot back. "Ygritte took you as one of us, loved you as one of us. What became of her?"

"She died," Jon said in a heavy voice, almost breaking with his pent up feelings for the girl kissed by fire. "I wish it were not so."

"Aye, maybe you speak true," Val said, her look softening a touch. "But our people want your blood, Jon Snow. Get back to your Wall before it is too late for you and your kin."

Jon had a retort on his lips but let it die. He then felt a hand on his arm. "Come, Jon. It is time we left," said his father.

Jon turned back to Mance Rayder. "I will do all I can to convince the Watch to let your people through the Wall."

"We will be here," said the free folk's leader. "We have no where else to go."

Jon knew that was too true. The Others and wights behind them, the Wall in front of them. Nowhere to go but to fight and die where they stood. He had to change that.

"I will stay," Thoros told them when they asked if he was rested enough to go back to Castle Black. "When I am better I will return to our men on the barriers."

Ned Stark then explained to Mance and Tormund about his plans to send more men and food and they thanked him for his aid. Maester Aemon was reluctant to depart Dalla's side but the old crone claimed to have birthed twice as many babies as Aemon had seen years and so he also left. Once outside the tent they could not find Maester Aemon's horse.

"It must have run off during the fight," Jon said.

"Can you walk far?" Robb asked the aged maester.

"I think not," Aemon replied. "And I think it would be too undignified for you young lads to carry me like a sack of potatoes."

"I will find him a horse," said Val, who had come out behind them. While they waited for her to return Jon decided it was time to let Sam and Aemon know what he planned.

"Maester, who was the youngest commander of the Watch?"

There was a long pause and Aemon breathed in and out and made a throat clearing sound. "The youngest was one of your kin."

"Orsic Stark," said Jon's father. "He was related to the King in the North."

Maester Aemon grinned. "Yes, you know your history, Lord Stark. He was ten when elected and served for six decades. But that was long before the Targaryen conquest. There have been some other boy commanders in the history of the Watch, but not many. But….why do you ask, Jon Snow?"

"I think…I mean…I think I will accept the nomination if someone offers my name…as Lord Commander."

Sam gasped. "Jon…do you mean it?"

"He means it," Robb said.

"If you mean to challenge the senior men of the Watch, Jon Snow, then you had best win," Aemon Targaryen stated. "They will not be very forgiving if you lose. If you think your life is hard now, it will get much harder."

"I am already cursed as a bastard and a traitor," Jon said with vigor. "How much worse can it get?"

"True," said Aemon. "And if you win? What then?"

"I mean to let the wildlings through the Wall and give them part of the Gift…if they fight for us."

"Many in the Watch would not agree," Sam observed.

"I know," Jon answered in frustration. "And Mance….they want him dead. If I let him live, let his people through the Wall, what will my brothers do, Maester Aemon?"

"It is a dangerous game you play, Jon Snow," Aemon replied. "The Watch has had its share of commanders who did as they please and lived to regret it. They were removed from their posts and in some cases tried and killed. I will tell you Jon Snow what I told my brother Egg so many, many years ago, when he became King of Westeros. If you do this, then it is time to become a man in all ways. This game you play is not a boy's game but a man's. And there is only one way to play such a game."

"Win or die," said Ned Stark in his grim fashion. "A lesson I learned too late in King's Landing."

They had no more chance to talk on this as Val returned with a horse and they took time to strap the maester to it. As they made their goodbyes to Val she gave Jon one last grim look and nodded to him to step aside.

"You made a promise to Mance," she said when they were alone. "You did that once before and broke your promise. How can we trust you this time?"

Jon knew only one thing that would make her believe him. "I loved Ygritte," he said and just saying the words almost brought tears to his eyes. "I make this oath on her departed soul. I will do all in my power to save your people."

She slowly nodded and then looked over to where the others were waiting. "You best be off then."

As Jon turned she spoke one more time. "Your brother Robb. Is he truly married?"

"Aye. Why?"

She grinned. "Pity." And then the wildling beauty turned and went back to Mance Rayder's tent.

As they walked back to the Wall leading the horse with Maester Aemon on it Jon walked beside Robb. "She likes you."

"I know," his brother replied with a grin. "I am married and I love my Roslin….but I can see why you broke your oaths with one of them."

Jon wanted to jest with Robb about girls but thinking on Ygritte again made him sad. He did love her…but she had been his enemy. Maester Aemon was right, it was time to put aside his boyhood and it was time to become a man. He vowed to never let himself be weakened by love again.

"What about the charges against Jon, maester?" Sam was asking when Jon came out of his thoughts.

"He must face them first."

"Tonight," Jon said.

"I will see to it," Maester Aemon replied and no more needed to be said on the matter at the moment.

As they were heading to the Wall a large body of men on horse came toward them, the long delayed Northern cavalry. There weren't many, perhaps less than two hundred. Ned spoke to their commander, gave his orders, and the cavalry went on to the wildling camp and they continued to the Wall.

When they got back to the Wall there was a large fire burning there and Walton and his men were burning bodies.

"Wights…and a few wildlings, my lord," Walton reported to Ned. "They had the fear on them and charged my men and in the mist we could not tell friend from foe. So…there it is."

"There is naught you could do," Ned told him. "I will send a relief force for your men in a short while."

Their return to Castle Black was greeted with many questions and Ned and Maester Aemon went off with the senior Watch commanders to discuss things. Grey Wind and Ghost both ran off suddenly, heading towards the Kingsroad and the forest nearby. Jon suddenly got a scent of something animal in his nose and he turned to Robb who also was sniffing the air it seemed.

"Deer," he said.

"Elk, maybe," Jon added and then they both laughed. Robb soon went off to find men to support the Greatjon and to relieve Walton and his men at the barrier. Jon and Sam walked toward the tower where Gilly was staying.

"I just need to check in on her," Sam said with a slight grin.

"Tell me, Sam…do you think I can do it?"

"Become commander?"

"Aye."

Sam stopped in the shadow of the old tower. "Grenn and Pyp and Satin and many others who trained with us will give you the vote. And the men who you led when we were all alone. It's the older men, and those from the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch. They will be reluctant. Thorne will claim you mean to give the Gift to the wildlings and let Mance Rayder live. They will not like that."

Jon nodded. "Aye…all true. How can I win?"

Sam shrugged. "But first…you must be cleared of all charges."

"I need you as a witness, Sam. To tell them what happened on the Fist…to tell them how Commander Mormont ordered me to go with the Halfhand and follow his orders."

"I'll be there. You know I will."

Jon clasped him on the shoulder. "You're a good friend."

Sam almost seemed to blush. "Best go off to see your woman," Jon said and Sam blushed even more.

"I wish she could be my woman," Sam said almost in a whisper and before Jon could answer Sam turned and went into the tower.

The trial of Jon Snow began after the supper hour, held in the dining hall. All the senior Watch commanders were there, including Maester Aemon, at a table set up in front of the kitchens. Jon sat in a chair in front of them facing them, with all the men not on duty behind him. His father and brother sat on a bench nearby, next to Sam. Allowing the Starks to observe had been a sore point with Thorne but after Ser Denys and Bowen Marsh took him aside and had a fierce whispered conversation, Ned and Robb were allowed to stay.

The trial began with a reading of the charges by Marsh, the Lord Steward. "Jon Snow, you are accused of aiding the wildlings, of giving them knowledge of our defenses, of helping them climb the Wall, of murdering a fellow member of the Watch and of breaking your oaths to lie with a woman. How do you answer these charges?"

"Not true," Jon said. "Except the last part." That brought a round of laughter from the men assembled. Thorne glared at them as his face turned red.

"This is no jest!" he shouted as he pounded his fist on the table. He turned his glare on Jon. "He murder Qhorin Halfhand! Your own brother…killed by this bastard!"

The laughter died down and a sudden ominous silence filled the hall.

Maester Aemon spoke up. "I think we should begin with the lest of the charges. Jon Snow, did you break your oath and lay with a woman of the wildlings named Ygritte?"

Jon sighed. "I did, maester. Many times."

"Why?" Marsh asked.

"To get his wick wet!" Grenn shouted and that brought more laughter and more angry glares from Thorne, a slight grin from Ser Denys and raised eyebrows and a sighed from Marsh.

After the sound died down again Marsh resumed questioning. "Why did you lay with this woman? Were you forced?" Again there were snickers but no one shouted this time.

"I did it to save my life at first," Jon said. "The wildlings did not trust me. I was ordered to kill the girl Ygritte but could not. I…I could not kill a woman, even a wildling woman. So…I let her go. Later I was captured by the wildlings. Many wanted to kill me, but she said I was her man, that I had stolen her when I let her live and now I was hers and she was mine. And…and to prove it I had to lie with her."

"That admission alone is worth forty lashes, Snow," said Thorne with some glee.

Maester Aemon snorted. "If we lashed every man of the Watch who lay with a woman then very few would be without scars on their backs."

That brought more grins and ribald comments and asides from the men. "Move on to the next matter," Thorne said to Marsh with a grunt.

"Did you help the wildlings over the Wall?" Marsh asked Jon.

"No…they helped me." And so Jon told them all the story of how he climbed and crossed the Wall. He had waited for the ice climbers to reach the top and drop their long rope ladders and even then the climb had near killed him.

"You did not tell them of our patrols?" Thorne asked when he finished his tale.

"They already knew much," Jon replied. "I told them how the patrols were random, that there was no way to know when or where men would patrol the Wall. They always keep a look out for patrols when they cross the Wall. They have been doing this for centuries. They did not need my help."

"True enough," said Ser Denys. He looked to his fellow judges. "I think this matter should be dropped." Marsh and Master Aemon agreed and finally Thorne did as well.

"The next matter," said Marsh. "You gave intelligence to the wildlings."

"Aye…some," said Jon and that brought some grumblings from the men. "But I was only following the Halfhand's orders!" Jon immediately added.

"So you say!" Thorne growled. "But we have no witnesses to what the Halfhand told you."

"I have a witness," Jon said.

Thorne looked puzzled. "What witness? All those men who went with you and the Halfhand died or are still missing."

"Sam Tarly. He was always near the Old Bear. He knows what he told me."

"Tarly," Thorne snorted in derision. "He is lucky he is not sitting beside you, bringing a wildling woman and her babe to this castle."

"Let him speak," Maester Aemon said. "Jon has the right to call any witness he wishes."

And so Sam came forward and they questioned him and he told them how they went to the Fist and how the men from the Shadow Tower joined them and soon after Jon and many others went out ranging, Jon with the Halfhand. "The Old Bear told Jon to follow the Halfhand's orders," Sam concluded.

"It means nothing," Thorne said when Sam finished. "It is a normal command any of us would give to a green boy going on his first ranging."

"Yes," said Ser Denys. "But at least this proves Jon Snow was acting with some belief that his superiors had ordered him to do as they said."

"That matters not," Thorne retorted. "He told them all about the Fist and Castle Black!"

"Only after they reached the Fist!" Jon answered swiftly. "As I said when I first returned. They found it overrun, many dead horses and broken weapons, all the men gone…fled or now wights. Only then I told Mance Rayder what had been there and who led them. I had hoped the Commander and his men would swoop down on the wildlings and take them by surprise. For that omission Mance almost killed me. If not for Ygritte…I would have died then and there."

"So you say," Thorne said. "Why should we believe you?"

Jon snorted. "You hate me and you hate my father and have called me bastard since the day I set foot in Castle Black. But know this, Ser Alliser. I have never lied to you or any man of the Night's Watch. And when the time came to help my bothers I did so. I rode all the way here with a wounded leg. I stood the Wall and helped our men stave off the wildling attacks until my father could raise the North and come to our aid. I have done my duty for the Watch and the realm."

There was a low rumbling of talk after he finished and Jon knew he was winning the support of many.

"I think it is time you told us how Qhorin Halfhand died, Jon," Maester Aemon said after a short time. Every man in the room went quiet and leaned forward a bit, many having only heard this story in bits and pieces or once it had been ground down in the rumor mill.

And so Jon told them, how the eagle of Orell had followed their every move, how Ghost had been attacked by the eagle, how one of the men stayed behind as a rear guard and died despite his valor. But the eagle kept finding them.

Marsh interrupted him at this point. "An eagle pointed the way you say? How is that possible?"

Before Jon could speak, Maester Aemon supplied the answer. "It's a warg,"

"A warg?" Marsh repeated.

"Skinchanger," said Ser Denys. "Yes…we have heard of this among the wildlings. Some say it is just a legend."

"It's not," Jon said and then for a brief moment he felt Ghost, running through the forest, the scent of elk in his nostrils. He came back to the place he was and spoke again. "The wildlings have one called Varamyr Sixskins. He controls a shadow cat, a snow bear, and three wolves with his mind."

Thorne scoffed. "More tales of a bastard."

"Not tales," Ned Stark said, speaking for the first time.

"You have no place here, Lord Stark," Thorne growled.

"We have seen this man and his beasts," Robb added quickly. "It is no tale."

"I have heard of him as well," said Aemon. "But we are getting away from the point. Jon…please continue."

He told of their retreat and how the Halfhand sent Stonesnake to find the Old Bear on the Fist and then soon it was only Qhorin and Jon left. They built one last fire to stay warm for at least a bit. And then the Halfhand gave him his final orders.

"He commanded me to join the wildlings, to let them capture me, to curse my oaths and my family and my commander if I must, but to join them."

Jon could feel the tension in the room as the men behind them seemed to hold their collective breaths. For a brief second he wondered how many men had ever been in his place, accused of being an oathbreaker and joining the wildlings. Maybe very few. Most that were taken by the wildlings were killed…or never came back, like Mance Rayder.

Ser Denys was asking him a question. "Did he also order you to kill him?"

"Not exactly. He said I must do whatever he asked of me. He told me to yield to the wildlings. To stay with them, to study them, to learn all I could of their plans. And then find a way to leave them, to get to the Commander and tell him all I knew."

"What proof do you have of this?" Thorne asked with a sneer.

"None…except my word."

"We all know what that's worth," Thorne replied and this time Ser Denys came to his defense before Jon could speak.

"I knew the Halfhand for many years. He has been out ranging many times and knows more of the wildlings than any man. If he ordered Jon to yield, to become a spy, to learn all he could, then I believe he speaks the truth."

Thorne bristled but would not even look on Ser Denys. "Continue," Maester Aemon said to Jon.

"We traveled through a cave system but when we came out the other side the eagle was waiting for us again and the Halfhand knew we were finished. We made our defensive stand near a cave mouth. As the wildlings came to attack I yielded. Ygritte was there as was Rattleshirt. She said to take me. Rattleshirt wanted to gut me. Then Rattleshirt said to prove I was no traitor I had to kill the Halfhand. At that moment, before I could even answer…the Halfhand attacked me. We fought…and I killed him."

He left out the part about Ghost attacking the Halfhand, even when first telling the story to Maester Aemon. He did not know how they would react to this. Thorne would most likely call him a treacherous bastard for making his direwolf attack a good man from behind. Jon felt guilty about Ghost's role in the Haflhand's death, so said nothing about it.

There was a long silence in the dining hall after Jon had finished speaking. Finally, Thorne spoke. "You admit to killing a member of the Watch. Then I say you are guilty without a doubt, Jon Snow. What say the rest?"

He looked to the other judges. "It sounds like self-defense to me," said Maester Aemon. "Jon was attacked. He defended himself."

"Qhorin was trying to kill a deserter!" Thorne snarled. "He did his duty like all of you should do if a brother tries to yield to the wildlings!"

"Then if he is guilty," Maester Aemon replied. "Why would he return to us and confess of his actions? Why would he do all he could to defend Castle Black? Why would he not help the wildlings take it, if he was their ally?"

Thorne's silence was all the answer that was needed. After that it was a simple vote.

"The Halfhand ordered you to yield, Jon," said Ser Denys. "This I believe. He attacked you to force you to kill him so the wildlings would accept you. If this is all true, then it is not murder."

"I…I am not a ranger," Bowen Marsh said next. "Just a steward. I know not much of Qhorin Halfhand. But I think it matters not. It is clear Jon Snow was under orders to do what he say he did."

They all looked to Thorne and he finally spoke. "He deserted. Guilty. He killed the Halfhand. Guilty. But it matters not what I think. Three have voted for you, Lord Snow. You are free."

Grenn and Sam let out big cheers as many men came forth and clapped Jon on the back and cheered him as well. Even sad Dolorous Edd had a few optimistic words for a change.

"The gods would only make the rope break if we tried to hang you anyway, Snow," he said and they all had a good laugh.

Jon sought out his father and Robb and they both gave him claps on the back and said well-done.

Then came a pounding sound from the head table. Clydas, Master Aemon's assistant, was hitting the tale with a cup for silence. Soon the men had settled down again. Jon noticed more than one man, mostly older ones, giving him dirty looks as he sat with his chair near Sam and his father and brother. He knew not all agreed with the verdict.

Maester Aemon spoke. "My brothers, we are short of time these days. The wights and Others have kept up their attacks. The wildlings' offer is still on the table. We must have a new commander soon. So now we will accept nominations. On the morrow we begin the vote."

"They must leave," Thorne said with a look to Ned and Robb Stark.

"Just going," Robb replied, giving Thorne a nasty look, and then Robb and Ned were gone without another word.

At once a senior man rose and shouted Ser Alliser Thorne's name for the next commander of the Watch.

"I accept," Thorne said to no ones' surprise. Immediately after a man of the Shadow Tower put forth Ser Denys Malliser's name and he also accepted.

Bowen Marsh refused when his name was called, saying he had enough burdens with dealing with supplies. Then some joker suggested Three-Fingered Hobb, just to get him out of the kitchens so they would not die from his cooking. Hobb shouted from the kitchen that the fool who nominated him would starve before he got another bite of his food and that caused roars of laughter. Hobb then politely refused.

"Cotter Pyke will also have his name put forth," Maester Aemon said. "We have not yet had word from Eastwatch but I am sure he would accept. Now…are there any more nominations?"

There was quiet as the men looked around and no more seemed to be interested in nominating anyone. Then Sam Tarly rose to his feet, gulped, and spoke. "Yes, maester. I nominate Jon Snow."

Jon thought Ser Alliser would die from shock when he heard this. There was a long silence and then an outburst of talk that tumbled and rolled and filled the room. Jon stood from his chair and then gradually the noise died down.

"I accept," he said and then the roar filled the room again and as the noise washed over him Jon only had eyes for Thorne and to his immense satisfaction he saw a glimmer of fear there.


	10. Chapter 10 Arya

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 10 Arya**

Arya Stark woke up in her room in Winterfell and immediately rolled out of bed. She felt a slight chill in the air and looked to her hearth and saw only a few embers there from last night's fire. Winterfell had hot springs under it that made the castle warm on even the coldest days but now it was getting colder than Arya had ever experienced in her life. She had been born at the end of the last winter and could not remember anything about it. Arya tossed a few small sticks on the embers and bent and blew on them. In a few moments they glowed to life and the wood caught fire. She sat on her fur rug for a while looking at the fire and thinking on what she wanted to do today. For today was a special day. It was her name day, and today she would be eleven years old, one step closer to being a woman. And that meant it was one day closer to a time when she and Gendry would no longer have to hide their love for each other.

As the room grew warmer Nymeria stirred from her corner where she slept on some old furs. She padded over to where Arya sat and Arya nuzzled her fur and hugged her tight.

"Today I am eleven," Arya said to Nymeria. "Do you know what that means?"

Nymeria whined and licked her face and panted. Arya laughed and held her direwolf.

Of course she didn't know what that meant. For certain there would be a party later today with great food and gifts from her family and for a brief moment Arya smiled. But then she remembered her father and Robb and Jon would not be there like in the past. And that made her sad for a moment.

"Nothing to be done for it," she said to Nymeria and then she stood and took off her sleeping shift. As she stood in only her small clothes Arya looked at her body. Still too skinny, she thought. When will I be a woman? She knew her hips were getting a bit rounder and her teats were beginning to bud but it was too slow and she still felt like a little girl. One good point was that her hair was getting longer and now touched her shoulders. But she knew she was not as beautiful as the other girls of Winterfell, especially her sister. Sansa was already as tall as many men and had already flowered, the event happening before the last turn of the moon soon after her father and Robb left for Castle Black. Sansa had been terrified at first but her mother and Roslin calmed her and helped her through her first flowering.

"I won't be scared when it happens to me," Arya said to Nymeria. "I will gladly welcome it. Then it means I can get married and then…Gendry…then…I don't know what happens then."

The truth was that when she became a woman she was supposed to marry someone else, Elmar Frey, a boy she met only once, and she didn't like him. He was too much of a boy, her own age, and he was always scared. He was not like Gendry, tall and strong and brave. But unlike Gendry he was of legitimate noble birth, a son to Lord Walder Frey, and her mother and brother had arranged the marriage when her family was in dire need of the Freys' help. Still, that didn't mean Arya had to go through with it. She wouldn't and her father had agreed with her. Winter is coming, he said, and it will be long and there will be no wedding until you are a woman and spring comes. As she thought on this Arya hoped winter would last a really long time.

She dressed in her boy's pants and shirt and realized they were getting a bit small on her. I must be getting taller, Arya thought as she opened her bedroom shutters and was greeted with a dazzling sunrise and blue skies. The glare was made double by the fresh snow that covered Winterfell. Arya had not seen much snow in her life, the few summer snows they had disappearing after a few days. Instead of her usual practice with Needle, Arya knew she wanted to be out there in that snow. She quickly used her chamber pot, washed her hands and face in a basin of cold water, and put on her warmest clothes and boots.

"Come on!" she said to Nymeria and they dashed out of her room and down the inner stairs of the Great Keep and were soon outside. She was the first one to walk on the crisp snow and she ran and ran and played with Nymeria, laughing the whole while. Some guards on the walls looked down at her and pointed and laughed and shouted at her to be careful. She made a snowball and threw it at Nymeria and was bending to make another one when something hard and wet smacked her on the backside.

"Hey!" she shouted and turned and there he was, her tall strong blacksmith, standing there laughing at her while he made another snowball in his bare hands. She quickly finished hers and threw it at him, hitting him in the chest. He barely noticed, just looked down a bit and then laughed again and threw his new snowball at her. She ducked and it went over her head.

"Stop!" Arya said as she saw Gendry bend to make another. He stood up again and she walked over to him. He grinned and his cheeks were red from the cold and his breath came out in cloudy whips of steam.

"Isn't it great!" he said and he laughed again. "I never saw so much snow before."

Arya knew that he was from King's Landing and had perhaps never even seen snow before. Gendry had just been just a boy during the last winter and maybe that far south they didn't get any snow, or at least not much of it. He was fifteen, almost sixteen, the oldest son of King Robert Baratheon, base born and not knowing who his real father was until a few moons' turns past. He had lived all his life in King's Landing with his father so close and yet had not known who his father was until he was dead and Gendry was fleeing for his life from the capital.

"There will be more snow before long," Arya told him. "So much you'll wish to never see it again, my father says."

"I am sure he is right," Gendry answered. "So, what are we doing today?"

She felt a sudden anger rise. Had he forgotten? "Nothing special. Just a normal day."

"Come to the forge?"

Now she was really angry. "No. Not today." She turned and had only taken two steps when he grabbed her arm and turned her around.

"What?" she almost shouted.

"Did you think I would forget?" he asked quickly. "I just…I made something for you. I wanted it to be a surprise."

Her anger drained away and she felt foolish for getting angry at him. "Oh. Sorry."

"Happy name day."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Eleven today."

"Yes. One day closer to…to what we want."

"Aye," was all he said but the way he looked at her she felt it meant so much more. He seemed like he wanted hug her and she wanted to also but they both knew they couldn't. "Come on," he said at last and he started walking towards the forge.

As they walked more people were about and stirring as the castle came to life. People greeted them and none bowed or dipped their heads to her as she had more than once told them not to do so. She had angry words with her mother over this and Sansa had said she was setting a bad example and soon the servants would not respect them at all but Arya would not change her mind.

At the armory Mikken and little Tim were already awake and getting the forge hot. The older apprentice, Karl, was married and lived in the rebuilt winter village and always came a bit late, more so nowadays as his wife was expecting a child. The iron forge was enclosed in a small wooden and stone building with a peaked roof, a chimney to let the smoke out, and an open front to let the air in while the men worked. Attached to it was a smaller building with tools, the coal bin, and some work benches. The armory was always a place of noise, with the smell of smoke and coal and metal, and at times the blistering heat of the forge.

"Morning, my lady," said Mikken and Arya let it slide as she had more than once told him not to call her that but he still insisted on showing her proper respect. "Your family has been here for thousands of years," he had told her one day. "When I call you 'my lady' it's for them that come before you as much as for you."

Gendry went into the small building next to the forge and Arya followed him. It was warm inside and there was a small iron stove already glowing with heat that had a kettle on top for the workers to make nettle tea when they had a break. Many tools were on the walls and the supply of coal was in a large enclosed wooden area at the back. Two work benches were also here and from one of these Gendry picked up something covered in canvas sacking. She had a feeling for the last few weeks had been working on something special but when she had tried to ask he had said it was nothing and she could never find out what it was. Now she knew, as he took off the canvas.

It was a helmet, dull metallic grey, and in the shape of a wolf, a direwolf to be exact and when Arya saw it her heart leaped in joy, for the helmet and for the man who had made it. It had wolf ears sticking up and a snout and jaws and eye holes for her eyes and a leather inner lining and straps in place to fasten the helmet under her chin.

Gendry handed it to her. "Happy name day," he said with a shy grin.

"Thanks," she said in a bare whisper as she held it and loved it. "It's marvelous."

"Try it on."

Arya carefully pulled the helmet on over her head and it fit well and her eyes were exactly at the eye holes and she could see clearly.

"How does it look?" she asked, her voice seeming to echo a bit in the helmet.

"Great," Gendry told her. "You look fearsome." He helped her take it off and then she flung herself into his arms and held him tight.

"That's the best present anyone ever gave me!" she said as she buried her face in his broad chest.

He gently held her for a second and then took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her away and looked around with worry in his eyes. "Arya…we must be careful."

"I know," she said sadly. "But I love you," she whispered.

"As I you," he whispered back as his cheeks turned a bit red. "But for now…"

"I understand," she said with a sniff. She handed the helmet back to him. "Give it to me tonight, at my party."

He looked a little surprised. "Am I invited?"

"Of course you are, stupid!" she said as she punched his arm like in the old days. "I want everyone to see it and know you made it for me."

"Is that a good idea?"

"Yes! And don't get that stubborn look in your eyes. Now, take me to breakfast."

He grinned. "Aye…my lady." As she turned to hit him he caught her arm and then pulled her towards him and hugged her once more and Arya felt warm and protected in his big strong arms. Then came a cough from the doorway. It was Mikken.

Gendry and Arya sprang apart as if on fire but Mikken pretended he had seen nothing. "Time to fetch the breakfast, lad."

Gendry was red in the face and full of worry. "Mikken…it…she was thanking me. For her name day present."

"Aye, as I thought. Not to worry." He gave them a grin and a wink and then turned back to the forge as Arya and Gendry both let out their breath.

"He won't say anything," Gendry assured her.

"I know. Come on."

Arya sent Nymeria off for her breakfast with the other direwolves and she and Gendry went on to the great hall. It was already buzzing with activity when they arrived. Her mother and Roslin were there supervising the laying out of breakfast and making sure the men on guard duty and at other posts around the castle got theirs as well.

"There you are!" Catelyn Stark said to her daughter. She gave Arya a hug. "Happy name day, my daughter."

"Thank you, Mother," Arya muffled into her chest. Catelyn beamed at her and then saw Gendry standing nearby.

"Good morning, Lady Stark," he said with a dip of his head.

"Good morning," she replied kindly. "The breakfast for the armory is over there."

"Thank you, my lady," he answered and he picked up a basket of bread and some boiled eggs and cheese and a pitcher of ale and left them.

"Visiting him a bit early, aren't you?" Arya's mother said when Gendry was gone.

"He wanted to show me my name day present."

"Oh? What was it?"

"You'll see later, at the party."

Her mother sighed. "Arya…it is not a good idea to have him come."

"If he doesn't come then I'm not either!"

"Gods!" Catelyn exclaimed. "What have you done to give me such a stubborn child? Fine. He can come. But he sits as far away from you as possible!"

"Aye," Arya said and they both had a small laugh. Before long Sansa and Jeyne Poole and the two Frey boys and Bran and Rickon came in, Bran carried by Hodor as usual. They all sat and ate and everyone said happy name day to her. Arya tried to find out what presents they got for her but no one would give her any clues so she finally stopped asking them. They were just about to finish their breakfast and go off to their morning lessons when Maester William came in the hall and approached their table.

"Where is Lady Stark?" he asked immediately.

"I think she went to the kitchens," Sansa told him. Then Arya noticed a raven scroll message in the maester's hand.

"Where is it from?" she asked quickly, thinking on her father and brothers. But at that moment her mother had arrived from the kitchens.

"Lady Stark…a message…from Castle Black," the maester told her. He had not opened it and Arya watched as her mother's face turned grim and she took the letter from him and opened it and unrolled it. She quickly read and then when she let out her breath and smiled Arya knew all was well.

"What does it say?" Sansa asked impatiently.

"They have arrived at the Wall. They are all well."

"What about Jon?" Arya asked, worried because the last news they had of her brother he was wounded.

"His leg is healing and…gods…he is to be tried for some things he did."

"What did he do?" Bran asked.

"It does not say," his mother answered. "Your father says Jon was brave and did his duty and protected the Wall and the castle but…the older men of the Night's Watch think he betrayed them somehow. Gods, what has that boy done now?"

"They got it all wrong!" Arya said fiercely. "Jon would never betray anyone!"

"Calm yourself," Catelyn Stark said sharply. "Your father says Jon did his duty, yes. That is enough to know. We must wait for further word."

"Can I read the letter?" Arya asked.

Her mother did not answer her right away as she read further and then she looked up and stared right at Arya. "Come with me, Arya."

Everyone looked at Arya and the Frey boys snickered, perhaps thinking she was to be punished. Sansa looked in puzzlement from her mother to Arya. "Sansa, see that the children go to their lessons. Come, Arya. Now."

Arya got up and followed her mother to the kitchens, not knowing why she wanted to speak to her alone. They found Roslin talking to Gage the cook. Catelyn handed Roslin the letter and told her Robb was well as she read it quickly. Then Catelyn turned back to Arya and motioned for her to follow. Soon they were alone in a corridor just off the kitchens where a few sacks of potatoes and onions and carrots were piled.

"Mother, what is wrong?" Arya finally asked. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," her mother said, her face full of worry. "Child, I am so sorry for this to happen on your name day. But…your father asks that Gendry be sent to Castle Black."

Arya felt her whole body contract, almost in a spasm of pain and breathing was suddenly hard. Finally, she gulped and spoke. "Why?"

"The armorer of the Night's Watch…he was killed in the fighting. They have no armorer now, no one to mend their weapons and armor. So…your father asked for Gendry."

"You mean he asked for an armorer. Why can't Mikken go?"

"No, he asked for Gendry. By name."

Arya turned without a word and dashed back to the kitchen and snatched the letter from Roslin, who now looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "I am sorry," Roslin said.

Arya barely heard her as she quickly read through the first part about their arrival and Jon and then got to the part about Gendry. "_The armorer of the Watch is dead, killed in the fighting. I know it will be hard, but I need someone from Winterfell. Send Gendry. Tell him to bring what tools and supplies he needs. Ask Ser Rodrik to pick some good men to escort him. Tell Arya I am sorry._"

Arya felt her body sag and pinpricks of tears formed behind her eyes but she swallowed and held them back and handed the letter to her mother. "I will tell him," was all she said and then she left the kitchens and before she knew it she was walking across the snow filled courtyard where just a short time ago she and Gendry had been playing and laughing.

It was so unfair! Why did it have to be him? But as she thought on it she knew why. Mikken was old and was needed here, and still had some pain from his arrow wound, though he would never admit it. Tim was too young and not a real armorer yet anyways. The other apprentice smith, Karl, had just gotten married a year ago and his wife was with child. Gendry was healthy and young and unmarried and almost a fully trained armorer. It had to be him.

She found them in the coal storage building, the four of them now, eating their breakfast at the work benches. Gendry looked up at her and smiled but then knew right away something was wrong. She looked at him and she almost teared up but kept her composure and then spoke to Mikken. "My father has written from Castle Black. He needs an armorer." All four of them stopped eating as she said this.

"Aye," said Mikken as he put down a piece of bread. "I will pack my tools."

"No," Arya replied. The next words were so hard to get out but she had to say them. "He asked for Gendry."

"Me?" Gendry said in surprise. "But…" He looked at the others and then she knew he was thinking perhaps as she had thought. "Aye, I guess it has to be me."

"No," said Mikken strongly. "You stay put, lad. If anyone goes to the Wall it's me. You…you have too much to do here. You're needed here." As he said this he looked to Arya and she knew he knew why Gendry needed to stay here.

"So are you," Arya said to Mikken. She looked back at Gendry and now the tears did come. "I'm sorry…but he asked for you by name. They need you. You must go." And then she could stand it no longer and turned and ran and before she knew it she was back in the Great Keep and in her bed. The tears flowed and she cursed the wildlings and the Watch and the Wall and…no, she could not curse her father. He needed Gendry and that was that.

Her mother found her there a long while later. She came in and sat on the edge of the bed.

"It is not a day for crying, my daughter. It is your name day."

"I don't feel like celebrating anything today, Mother."

Catelyn Stark nodded and took a deep breath. "When your father first went off to war, I cried for almost a whole day. I hardly knew him at that point. He was just a man my father had arranged for me to marry. Did I love him? Perhaps not at that time. But he was my husband and he was going to war and I knew not if I would ever see him again. But when he left, I did not shed a tear. I wished him well, told him to come back to me, and hugged him and sent him on his way. As I did many times since then."

Arya sat up on her pillows. "But you did cry later?"

"Yes…and many times since. As you did when Gendry and your father and Robb went to fight at Moat Callin. Today you are eleven and soon you will be a woman grown. Men will go, they will have to fight, so we can be safe. When they go, we make sure they go with strong hearts and minds. You must be strong today and the days to come. For Gendry. And for yourself."

Arya looked at her and knew she was right. Deep inside her a spark of rebellion said "go with him" but a larger flare of sanity said it was madness and he would be angry and her father and mother as well, everyone would be angry so she squashed that spark of rebellion and smiled. "I will do my best."

Her mother smiled back. "Good. Now, go to your lessons. Say nothing to the other children about Gendry leaving as they will only pester you."

"Yes, they would at that. When…when is he going?"

"I have talked to Ser Rodrik. He will pick five men of the garrison to go with Gendry. They will take some supplies as well. He said it will take ten days at least to reach the Wall. If the weather is good. So they must leave tomorrow."

Arya's heart quailed. "So soon?"

Her mother nodded. "I am sorry, Arya. But they need him. There is a war going on at the Wall. Your father knows how much he means to you. He would not ask if it was not important."

"I know." Arya replied heavily and she rose from her bed and hugged her mother once more and then they left the Great Keep together and Arya went off to her lessons. She was barely conscious of what Maester William was saying about the history of the Targaryen conquest and Sansa kept looking at her and whispering 'what did Mother want'. But Arya ignored her. After the lessons were done the Frey boys and Rickon eagerly ran out and Sansa and Jeyne left as well. Arya was barely aware the lessons were done and she sat in her chair and soon only she and Bran were left as he waited for Hodor to arrive. Arya hardly looked at her brother as he sat there reading another book, something about farming.

"Arya?" said Maester William said and she snapped out of her thoughts. "The lessons are over."

She suddenly wanted to ask him many questions. "Tell me about the Wall and the Night's Watch."

The maester nodded and cleared his throat. She was sure he knew what was in the letter, but she was not sure what he knew about her and Gendry.

"The legends say Bran the Builder lay the first ice and stone for the Wall eight thousand years ago," Maester William began. "But as for that, no one is certain. There are no written records of the period. It was the Age of Heroes, the time when the Others first walked the world, at least we think so. The children still lived in the forests and the heroes of the age asked for their help to defeat the Others."

Bran had stopped reading and was listening as well. "Old Nan said the winter was so cold that the people starved and many died and they could do nothing to stop the Others."

"So the legends say," the maester concurred. "But they did find a way and the Night's Watch was formed to guard the Wall and protect the realm from the Others. But as the centuries passed and the Others slept, many began to doubt they were even real. The Watch had a new enemy, the wildlings, and so the Watch continued to exist until the present time."

"Who are the wildlings?" Arya asked. "Are they like…animals?"

The maester smiled. "No, not at all. You know Osha. Was she an animal?"

Arya felt stupid. "No. I liked her."

"She saved me and Rickon," Bran said strongly. "Why are Jon and the Watch fighting them? They are people like us."

Maester William sighed. "It is a complex matter. People are often at odds with each other, especially over land and resources."

"And thrones," Arya added.

"Yes, and thrones," said the maester. "There are no thrones north of the Wall. But now it seems Mance Rayder has united the wildings and is bent on coming south. To attack us, perhaps. But I think his people mainly want to get away from the coming terrible cold…and the Others."

"The Others," Arya repeated. "Are they real?"

"Maester Aemon's letter says so. I…I know not."

Then Arya asked him the question most on her mind. "Is it dangerous at the Wall?"

"You know the answer to that already, Arya," he said in a gentle tone and then she was sure he knew about her and Gendry and why she was asking about the Wall.

"I…yes, I know."

Bran looked at her in puzzlement. "Why are you being stupid? Of course the Wall is dangerous. There is a war at the Wall. People are dieing up there!"

"Shut up!" she said fiercely and then she stormed out of the room, her cheeks red with anger she was sure. Down the stairs and out into the courtyard she went but there was no peace there. Sansa and Jeyne were waiting for her, playing with Summer and Nymeria. Her direwolf immediately came to her side.

"What did Mother want?" Sansa asked right away, her eyes intent, eager for some gossip.

"It's nothing, just…warning me about asking Gendry to the party," she lied.

"Oh?" said Jeyne with sudden interest. "Is he coming?" Jeyne Poole still liked Gendry a bit too much for Arya's liking.

"Of course not!" Sansa said.

Arya scowled at her. "For your information, Mother said it was fine!" She then turned on her heel and stalked off through the snow with Nymeria right behind her.

The rest of the afternoon Arya kept herself busy with Needle work. She got her slender blade and went off to the godswood where she knew no one would bother her. Nymeria came with her and went chasing the birds and rabbits that sometimes got into the godswood. She told only her mother what she was doing and promised to be back for her party at the supper hour.

The godswood was beautiful with its fresh mantle of snow and Arya saw that the small pool by the weirwood tree had a thin layer of ice on it. As she looked at the weirwood she thought on Maester Luwin and how he had died here. That made her sad so she put those thoughts aside and took off her heavy overcoat and began to practice with Needle. In moments she was a water dancer, and worked at her movements, adjusting her footing for the snow underneath. It made it more difficult, the snow did, but she understood that this was just one more type of ground she had to get used to in order to be a good fighter. Syrio had told her that fighting could take place anywhere, and that balance was the key to always keeping your feet. If you fell, you would die. In the North, snow would be on the ground quite often. It was her land, so she had to learn to defend it in all conditions.

After a long time she was sweaty and tired and pulled on her overcoat and gloves and was about to leave, when she stopped. The weirwood's almost human face seemed to be beckoning her and she then knew what she had to do. She bent to one knee and placed Needle before her, the tip in the snow, pointing at the sacred tree.

"Gods," she began in a strong voice. "Please protect all those I love, especially those at the Wall. My father, my brother Robb, my brother Jon. And protect all those men with them. One more soul I ask you to protect. He is Gendry, a good man and I love him with all my heart. See him safe to the Wall and see he is protected and cared for. He has had a hard life and I know it will get harder now. But I love him and want him to come back to me, and marry me and give me many children."

Just as Arya finished she heard a giggling sound behind her. She sprang up and whirled around and there was her brother Rickon and the two Frey boys, Big Walder and Little Walder. Gods! Had they heard her?

"What are you doing here?" she demanded of her brother. "Mother said you were not allowed in the godswood alone!"

"Neither are you," her little brother shot back.

"Yes, I am. I am almost a woman and you are still a little boy. Now get out! All of you!"

"We're just playing," Rickon said in a whining tone. "What are you doing here?"

"Practicing…and praying. For father and Robb and Jon."

Big Walder smirked. "And Gendry. Why did you pray for him?"

"She said she loves him and wants to marry him," said Little Walder, his face twisted in confusion. "I thought she was to marry Elmar."

Arya felt a shock run through her. They had heard. What could she do? If she acted guilty they would know for certain. She had to lie. She walked up to the Walder boys with Needle still in her hand. "Gendry is my friend," she said calmly but her voice had an edge of threat to it, reinforced by the weapon in her hand. "He is going to the Wall tomorrow. I was praying for him to be safe. That is all."

"Why is he going to the Wall?" Rickon asked.

"Father needs him."

"Are you going to marry Elmar?" Big Walder asked, a suspicious look on his face.

"Yes…after winter is over," she said impatiently. "Now go, all of you. And don't you say a word about Gendry going to the Wall. Mother said we are not to tell anyone until tomorrow. Can you keep a secret?"

"I can!" boasted Little Walder.

His cousin scoffed. "You got the biggest mouth in the Seven Kingdoms."

This was not good. Little boys always ran off at the mouth. She had to offer them something. "If you keep it secret," Arya said. "I will teach you how to be a water dancer."

"A what?" Big Walder asked.

"A water dancer, a swordsman, like in Braavos."

Little Walder laughed. "We want to be knights, not sissy bravos!"

Now it was Arya's turn to scoff. "How little you know. The best swordsmen are from Braavos. Everyone knows that. The First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel, taught me all I know. How do you think I learned to kill men?"

Big Walder looked at Needle and gulped. "How many men did you kill?"

"Ten…I think." She wasn't sure exactly, the chaos of battle making it uncertain how many. She had already told them this once before, but they were boys and always wanted to know about wars and battles and killing.

Rickon gaped at her, his eyes wide. "That many?" Arya knew she was in trouble now. She was not suppose to tell Rickon about her battles.

"Tell us more!" said Big Walder eagerly. "Tell us about the fights!"

Arya studied their faces. They were just little boys who wanted to hear tales of adventure. But it was not all adventure. People died and got hurt. But she also had to get them on her side or they would talk about Gendry to someone who should not hear such talk. "If I tell you must promise to say nothing to Mother about this or I will beat you all!"

"Yes!" the three little boys said eagerly and so Arya told them as much as she could, leaving out some of the more gruesome parts, telling it like a real adventure story, acting it out with them and Needle.

That took some time and when she was done it was colder and all of them had red noses and cheeks and she took them back to the great hall, where they got some hot tea and bread and honey for a snack. The boys were eagerly saying they would be the best knights in the land and were boasting and Arya tried to hush them but gave up and was glad when Sansa came and asked to speak to her.

"Mother said your name day dress is ready. You must try it on first."

Arya followed Sansa back to her room and the two sisters went inside. On Arya's bed lay a beautiful pale blue dress with a white frilly collar and buttons down the back.

Arya picked it up and looked it over and smiled. "It's nice."

"Very nice," said Sansa, her tone flat and a little unenthusiastic. "But not like the dresses I wore in King's Landing but it will do…for you…I mean for up here. In the North I mean."

Arya just stared at her. "Why are you like that?"

"Like what?" Sansa asked in what Arya thought was genuine puzzlement.

"Nevermind."

"Try it on."

Arya stripped out of her damp clothing and as she did so she saw Sansa looking at her and once again she felt self-conscious. "When I was your age I was taller and already becoming a woman," Sansa said, as if knowing what Arya was thinking.

Arya felt her cheeks burning as she quickly pulled the dress over her head, saying nothing. She turned and Sansa did the buttons up the back and Arya turned around again.

"It fits well?" Sansa asked.

"Yes."

Sansa smiled. "Good…you even look pretty. He will like it."

Arya knew who she meant. "He doesn't care what I dress like."

Sansa made a scoffing sound. "So you think so. All men care what their woman looks like."

Now Arya really glared at her. "When I first met him I was dressed like a boy and had short hair, mud under my nails and dirt on my cheeks. Gendry loves me for who I am, not for what I look like or how I dress."

Sansa was taken aback by her fierce tone. "I meant nothing by it…just most men…"

"He's not most men!"

"I…I know. Arya? Why are you crying?"

It was true, tears were flowing down her cheeks again. She could not help but gasp the truth. "Gendry is going to the Wall! Tomorrow!"

Sansa was truly surprised. "What? Why?"

"Father's letter," Arya gasped. "He…he said he needs Gendry. The armorer of the Watch died. They need someone."

And then Sansa did a surprising thing. She hugged Arya and it was long and warm and tender. "I'm so sorry," Sansa whispered to her little sister.

After a moment Arya pulled away and wiped her tears. "I…I have to stop crying. Mother said it would not do to cry when your man goes off to war."

"No…not at all," Sansa agreed. "What's it like?"

Arya was puzzled. "What?"

"To be in love so much it hurts."

Arya sat on her bed and Sansa sat beside her. "You never loved Joffrey, did you?"

"I thought I did," Sansa confessed. "But…it was the idea of being the queen I was in love with I think now."

Arya nodded. "Yes, I guess any girl would think she was in love in that case."

"Now I am a woman," Sansa said sadly. "And there is no one for me to love."

Arya did not know what to say. "Is there no one you like? Just a bit?"

Sansa did not speak for a long few seconds, and stared off at the now cold hearth. "No…no one," she finally said, her voice hollow and empty.

"Then how can you fall in love if there is no one that you even like?"

"I don't know," Sansa replied. "Father said he would find me a husband soon. A noble son of some Northern house."

"I am sure he will be a good man."

"Yes," Sansa answered. "And maybe I will love him someday like Mother learned to love Father."

She smiled and Arya felt it was a forced smile. "Come, we must get baths before the party," Sansa told her.

Arya scowled. "I had a bath last week."

"Don't you want to look and smell nice? For him?"

Arya sighed and nodded. "Aye." She took some fresh small clothes and the party dress to change into after she got clean.

Many of the young girls of Winterfell were already at the baths and the place was steamy and hot and Arya was glad she decided to take a bath as she lay soaking in the hot soapy water. She washed her hair and cleaned her fingernails. Then the old woman who ran the bathhouse shouted for them time was up as the boys had to bathe as well. Arya got out and dried off with a warm towel and then put on her small clothes and the new dress. Then Sansa and Jeyne said it was time for Arya to try something new.

"What?" Arya asked as they dragged her from the bathhouse. As she was walking away she caught a glimpse of Gendry talking to her mother across the courtyard. Arya wanted to stop and find out what was going on but they didn't notice her and Sansa and Jeyne were dragging her by the arms. Soon they were in Sansa's room at her dressing table and the two older girls forced Arya into a chair by a Myrish looking glass. On the table were many small clay jars and a few glass bottles.

Suddenly Arya knew what they were up to. "No! No! I'm only eleven! I do not want to look like some painted tart!"

Sansa laughed. "You won't. I promise. Just…trust us."

Arya sighed. "Right. But if I don't like it off it comes."

"Just be still," Jeyne said.

They soon got to work and applied different things to Arya's face, making her cheeks a bit pink, and putting something on her eyelids that made them darker and then adding a little color to her lips. They tied a blue ribbon to her hair. When they were done Arya looked in the glass and saw that she was much prettier this way. But she wondered how Gendry would react.

"Is it really good?" she asked them.

"Yes!" Sansa said. "Now it's my turn. Help us Arya."

They spent the next hour there as Jeyne and Sansa got ready and put on pretty dresses and then before they knew it a servant was there telling them it was time for the party.

Outside the great hall Arya's mother was waiting. She told Sansa and Jeyne to go inside as she spoke to Arya. "Now. Remember your promise. No tears. Not tonight."

Arya nodded. "Yes, Mother. Ah…I saw you, talking to Gendry earlier. What's going on?"

"We were just discussing a few things I want him to pass on to your father when he sees him. I also gave him some letters to carry with him."

"Oh. Okay." She took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

They entered the great hall and many people there stood up from their tables. The hall was about half full and many of the people were Arya's age or younger. At the head table sat Bran, in the lord's chair, as he was Lord of Winterfell while their father and Robb were gone. The chair by his side was empty and Arya would sit there. Sansa and Rickon and Roslin were there as well and another empty chair on Bran's other side was for her mother.

Ser Rodrik was there with his daughter Beth and so was Maester William, and the new steward Samson, and Jeyne Poole of course, and the Frey boys, and Hodor and Old Nan and several other members of the household that Arya had known all her life. But her father was not there and neither were Robb, or Jon, or Maester Luwin or Septa Mordane or any of the people who had gone to King's Landing with her father, and that made her sad for a moment.

Then she saw Gendry, standing off to the side, at a table with Mikken and little Tim. He looked like he had bathed as well, his hair washed and combed neatly and he seemed to be wearing a new shirt, dark blue, and he smiled when he saw her and she could not help but smile back.

Everyone was standing but Bran. He could not stand and for a second that fact made Arya mad but then Bran was raising his cup as Arya came down the center aisle with her mother at her side. Everyone picked up a mug or cup or glass and raised it to Arya. A servant quickly gave Arya and her mother cups of water.

"Happy name day, Lady Arya of House Stark," Bran said in a loud firm voice and everyone shouted. "Happy name day!"

Arya knew she was blushing and thanked them all and after they all drank she and her mother sat down. Then the food began to arrive from the kitchens. There was roasted chicken, slabs of ham, boiled potatoes, buttered carrots, fried onions, small fish rolled in salt and pepper, warm bread, and ale and wine and water. Arya asked her mother if she could have some wine and she nodded. "Just one glass." Arya sipped it and made a face and Sansa laughed at her.

"Maybe ale is better," Arya said and she pushed the wine away and asked a servant for some ale.

As they ate one by one people came to the head table and presented gifts to her. She thanked them all and admired the gifts. She got new fur lined gloves from the Frey boys. There was a book from Maester William about Aegon the Conqueror's two sisters, both heroines of Arya's. She got a small carved horse from Rickon, who said he made it himself. The craftsmanship was a bit too good and Arya suspected one of the carpenters had helped him, but said nothing. A woolen scarf came from Sansa, who also said she made it herself and by the imperfect knitting Arya knew it was most likely true. Bran gave her a book also, on the history of the Wall and as he gave it said he was sorry for calling her stupid earlier today. She knew he took it from the library, but still the same she was glad to have it and thanked him.

Then it was Gendry's turn. He approached the table and dipped his head. "Lady Stark," he said to Arya. "Happy name day."

She gave him a shy grin. He looked so handsome she was sure she was blushing. "Thank you, Gendry," she said.

He held up the canvas sack and uncovered the helmet and there was a sudden gasp in the hall as all who saw it admired his workmanship. He handed the helmet to Arya and she took it and held it up and looked at it as if she was seeing it for the first time.

"It's lovely," she told him. "Thank you so much." He dipped his head again and went back to his table.

"It's quite the…gift," said her mother from the other side of Bran. "But not very lady like."

"He knows what I wanted," Arya replied "It's a direwolf."

"Put it on!" Rickon shouted.

"No," his mother said. "Not now."

Sansa was staring at the helmet. "It looks like the one the Hound wears."

Arya suddenly knew she was right. Why hadn't she seen it before!? "It is not!" she said sharply to Sansa. "His helmet is a dog. This is a direwolf!"

"Be calm," Catelyn Stark said. "It is a direwolf, true enough."

Arya felt a sudden annoyance at all of them and she wanted to run away, to the Wall, with Gendry, so she would never have to speak to them about him again. But she knew she couldn't and just gritted her teeth and suffered through the rest of the party. Finally the last of her gifts were given. Only her mother and Roslin had not given her anything. Arya waited and waited but dessert came, tarts and a cake, and they ate some more and still her mother said nothing. Finally, it was time for the party to end.

Arya had a sullen pout on and looked at her mother in anger but her mother did not understand. "Child, you have just received more gifts than most children in the Kingdoms receive all their lives. Why are you angry?"

"I'm not angry!" Arya said in an angry tone.

Bran laughed. "I think we have teased her long enough, Mother."

Catelyn Stark smiled. "Yes. Come, Arya." She stood. "Come, everyone. There is one more thing to be done."

Everyone filed out of the great hall and into the cold air outside. There stood the horse master of Winterfell, holding the reins of a magnificent riding horse, already saddled and with a bit in its mouth.

"Your father wanted you to have this horse for your name day present, from him and me," Arya's mother said. "The saddle is from Robb and Roslin."

"For me?" Arya said, hardly daring to trust her voice.

"Yes," her mother answered. "Happy name day."

She hugged Arya and then Roslin hugged her and everyone said it was a magnificent horse, and Arya could see that even in the light of the torches and lanterns. Arya approached the horse and asked the horse master what it's name was. "Whatever you wish it to be, my lady," the horse master said with a dip of his head.

The horse whinnied as he handed the reins to Arya and she touched its nose. "Is it a stallion or a mare?"

"A mare," the horse master replied. "More than a year old. Born here in Winterfell. A true horse of the North, my lady."

"Get on!" Rickon shouted and others took up the call and the horse master helped her mount the horse. She had to sit side saddle because of her dress and slowly the horse master helped her lead the horse around the courtyard as Arya got the feel for the horse. But it was dark and she knew she should ride when her legs were free and she could feel the horse and so after a bit got off and the horse master led her horse back to the stables. And then the party was truly over.

As everyone said good night and began to go their separate ways Arya went back in the hall with her mother and Sansa to help collect her presents. As they were about to leave, Gendry came in.

He dipped his head. "I'm sorry…but I wish to speak to Arya, Lady Stark."

Catelyn Stark nodded and she looked at him with sympathy. "Yes. Of course you do. Come, Sansa."

They took all of the presents except the helmet which Arya still held in her hands. She placed it on a table and sat and he did as well. Around them the servants were clearing the tables of dishes and the remainder of the food and drink.

They looked at each other and she did not know what to say to him. Finally, he spoke. "You look very beautiful tonight."

She blushed and then said something stupid which she instantly regretted. "So I did not look beautiful before?"

He flushed. "No! I did not…no, I meant…"

"Sorry. I'm just…I'm mad. Not at you! At…At the world."

He sighed. "Aye. So am I. But there is naught we can do about it."

"I could come with you."

His face blanched. "Arya…that's madness."

"I know."

She fingered the helmet, tracing her hands over the snout and eye holes. "Sansa said it looks like the Hound's."

He looked surprised. "Oh? I never…I did not mean it to. Sorry." She knew he knew how much she hated the Hound.

She reached over and grasped his hand. "I know you didn't. It's a lovely gift. I will wear it the next time I am in battle."

Gendry squeezed her hand. "Then I hope you never have reason to wear it."

She nodded and felt the tears behind her eyes forming but held them back. She could not cry, not now. "At the Wall…you stay safe. You stay in the armory. You don't fight! If you have trouble with anyone, you tell my father and Robb and Jon."

"I don't know Jon."

"You will. He is a good man. He will know who you are by now."

"Aye."

They were silent for a long moment, just looking at each other. Finally, he spoke. "I was going to the Wall at the beginning. Now I am finally getting there."

She sighed. "So much has happened since that first day by the Mud Gate."

He grinned. "I thought you were a boy."

"I thought you were a bullheaded idiot."

They both laughed at that. "Half right," he said.

And now the tears were really trying to force their way past her resolve and it was time she said good night to him before she cracked. But first she wanted to do one more thing. She stood. "Come," she said to him and she picked up the helmet and walked and he followed. She went through the kitchens and he followed her still and many of those working there looked at them but said nothing and continued their work.

In moments they were in the corridor where Arya had talked to her mother earlier in the day. She dragged him by the hand to a dark corner and looked around to make sure no one was looking.

"Arya, what are we doing?"

She put the helmet on a wooden crate and in the darkness she took his strong hands in hers. "This is your last chance. I've kissed you twice. Now it's your turn."

"Arya…" he started to say and then he just sighed and grabbed her around the waist and picked her up into the air and wrapped his big arms around her and then his lips were on hers and she kissed him back and for a few brief moments they were lost to the world.

It was over too soon and she lay her head on his big shoulder. "You come back to me, you hear?"

"Aye, my lady," he said and then he gently put her down on the floor again and in the darkness his eyes were shining with emotion as he cupped her face in his big strong hands and lightly kissed her lips and they told each other how they felt for the other one more time.

Arya could hardly sleep that night, thinking on that kiss and the fact that she might never see him again and she did cry, and hoped she cried all of her tears out of her eyes for she did not want to cry when she said goodbye to him in the morning. She was up with the dawn again and had breakfast with her family and it seemed as if all of them knew now that Gendry was leaving. They hardly spoke to her and then it was time to say goodbye.

The day was grey and threatening to snow and it was very cold. In the snowy courtyard Ser Rodrik was there with five men and a wagon. The men all had horses and were wearing ring mail armor and furs and had swords and shields and spears. The wagon had a teamster to drive it and two shaggy draft horses to pull it. Mikken was there as was Gendry and they were looking over the supplies in the back. It was filled with sacks and barrels, and some bars of pig iron and some tools. Gendry had his hammer on his belt and a sword at his side as well.

"Gods! Is he going to the Wall dressed like that?" Sansa asked in worry.

Gendry had never had many clothes and now he wore just a thin leather coat over his shirt and his usually breeches and boots and he had no hat or gloves at all. "No, he is not," said Catelyn Stark strongly. "Gendry, come with me. Arya, you as well."

Gendry looked at them in surprise and then they were walking through the snow to the Great Keep. Arya's mother said nothing and then they were climbing the stairs and soon they were in her parents' quarters. Gendry looked worried and Arya allayed his fears.

"You need proper clothes for the Wall," she told him.

"This is all I have," he said, clearly embarrassed by his lack of material things.

"My husband left more than enough behind," said Arya's mother as she went to a dressing closet and started taking things out.

Gendry flushed. "Lady Stark…I cannot take Lord Stark's clothing."

"You can and you will," she said to him. "Arya help me."

Soon they had piles of shirts and breeches and furs and cloaks lying on the big bed and after a bit they had assembled enough for Gendry so at least he would not freeze at the Wall. He was taller and broader than Arya's father but the cloaks and furs fit well enough and they found some old woolen gloves and a fur hat for him.

"When you get to the Wall, you tell Lord Stark I gave you these things," said Arya's mother to Gendry.

"Yes, my lady…thank you. For everything."

She nodded and then to Arya and Gendry's shock Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell hugged him, briefly, and then she put a hand on his big shoulder, reaching up to do so, and looked at him. "You be careful. And keep an eye on my husband and son, if you would. They are bound to try to do something heroic and get themselves in trouble. I want you all back, even you. Or my daughter will be sad and I cannot have that."

"Aye, my lady," Gendry said, his voice thick with emotion, and she patted him on the shoulder and smiled.

"Good." Then she sighed. "Now it is time."

Arya and Gendry looked at each other with sad eyes and then they were going down the stairs and were soon outside again.

Now around the wagon and the departing men were many people of Winterfell. Word had spread that someone was going to the Wall and now the women came forth with things for their husbands and sons on the Wall with Lord Stark's forces. Soon the wagon was overflowing with new things and Ser Rodrik finally had to put a stop to it or the wagon would never be able to move.

Then Arya realized Gendry would have to ride in that overloaded wagon. They had not prepared a horse for him.

"Where is Gendry's horse?" she demanded of Ser Rodrik.

"The stables are near empty, my lady," he replied. "I cannot spare any more horses."

She stamped her foot on the snow. "He is not riding in that wagon all the way to the Wall!"

Arya stormed off to the stables and a short time later she reappeared leading her name day horse, saddled and ready to go.

"Arya, what are you doing?" her mother demanded.

"This is my gift, is it not?" she said strongly.

"It is."

"And I can do with it as I want? Can't I?"

"You can."

"Then I am giving it to Gendry. He needs it more than I do."

Her mother stared at her for a long moment and then nodded. "As you wish."

"I cannot take…" Gendry started to say.

"You can!" said Arya swiftly as she handed him the reins. He reluctantly took them. She spoke quietly to him. "I owe you this much for saving my life. And so much more."

"Aye…my lady."

She would have hit him for that in the past but now she only smiled at the jest and it made her feel warm inside. "Goodbye. Gods be with you."

"Goodbye…for now," he said and then he smiled and suddenly Arya was not afraid anymore, she knew he would be fine, somehow she sensed that he would come back to her. She did not know why, but the feeling was there nonetheless.

Many others said goodbye to him, her brothers and her sister and Jeyne Poole, and Ser Rodrik and Tim and then Mikken last of all. He shook Gendry's hand and clapped him on the back. "You keep the forge hot and your hammer handy," he told Gendry. "Old one-armed Donal Noye left big shoes to fill, but I know you are up to the job, lad."

"Thank you," Gendry said and Mikken sniffed and clapped him on the back once more.

Gendry mounted his horse and it whinnied and shied for a moment and then he got control of it.

"You'll have plenty of time to break her in on the way to the Wall," Ser Rodrik told him. "What shall you name her?"

Gendry thought for a moment and then grinned and looked at Arya. "I will call her My Lady."

Arya could not help but laugh and then Sansa laughed as well, knowing too well how Arya hated that phrase, and her mother laughed also. They all wished Gendry and the other men well and then Ser Rodrik told the mounted leader that they best be off. With one last look to Arya, a look that said so much, Gendry turned his horse and rode out the main gate with the others.

Suddenly Nymeria howled and howled and Arya ran to where she was chained up nearby. "What's the matter girl?"

Nymeria was agitated and Arya entered her mind and saw she was seeing Gendry leave through Nymeria's eyes. She came back to herself and unchained the direwolf and she went leaping away and across the yard and out the main gate.

Arya ignored her mother and Sansa's pleas to get Nymeria to come back and she started to climb up a set of stairs leading to the battlements. She climbed and climbed up different stairs until she was up on the highest part of the castle walls that faced north. From there she could see the small party of men and the wagon as it went north on the snowy Kingsroad. Nymeria was loping along beside them and Arya steadied herself and reached out with her mind. She entered Nymeria and she saw Gendry looking down from My Lady and he was speaking to Nymeria.

"Are you going to come all the way to the Wall with me?" he asked. "Arya would not like that. Go back to her and keep her safe. For me."

Nymeria howled and then Arya willed her to stop. And for a long time Nymeria sat on the Kingsroad and Arya stared at the departing riders though Nymeria's eyes and then through her own eyes until they went over a small hill and were finally lost to view.

"Be good," Arya said aloud and then the tears came and Nymeria howled once more, a lament for the man she loved who was going into the ice and fire that was the war at the Wall.


	11. Chapter 11 Stannis

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 11 Stannis**

King Stannis Baratheon surveyed the ruins of Harrenhal and knew immediately that the place would never serve as an effective fortress again unless serious repairs were made. The smell of smoke hung over the main courtyard as he stood there with his officers and Melisandre and his squire Devan Seaworth by his side. It had taken three days for the fires to die down entirely while the army camped outside the walls a hundred yards away. A heavy rain on the third day helped and then after the rains a cold wind blew from the north. The morning after a thin film of ice was on all of the puddles formed the day before in the rain and the mud was frozen hard early in the morning.

"As Ned Stark always said, winter is coming," Stannis said to his squire Devan Seaworth as they stood outside the King's large tent as Devan attached Stannis' cloak to his armor.

"Yes, Your Grace," Devan replied. "It is getting colder."

They felt the wind blowing from the north, and Stannis knew things were getting ahead of him. Winter was not the time for campaigning. It was a time to hole up in a stronghold or city and ensure he had enough supplies and his men were well. Looking across the army camp and the fields at the ruin of Harrenhal he knew he could not stay here. He either had to go forward and attack the Lannisters and Casterly Rock now before winter came or he had to return to King's Landing and wait out winter. But Casterly Rock was a bastion that would not fall in one swift strike. A siege could last for years and first he had to defeat the Lannister armies in the field.

Of allies he had few. Ned Stark had returned home and found his lands overrun with ironmen. The Riverlands had suffered greatly in the recent wars and could barely defend their own lands with what men they had left. The Vale still refused to send him any soldiers or food or fodder. Lysa Arryn had sent pledges of loyalty to him but he cared little for that. Words were wind without deeds to back them up. He had need of her knights and cavalry. In his anger at her he ordered she be arrested and dragged in chains to King's Landing, but Ser Davos said that would only give them one more enemy and one more front to fight on so Stannis stayed his wrath. Littlefinger promised he would bring her armies in on Stannis side if he were given permission to travel to the Vale and speak to her in person. Stannis rescinded the order to arrest Lysa Arryn but did not give Littlefinger permission to go to the Vale as Stannis still did not know what game Littlefinger was playing.

He had the Tyrell's support, for now, but that support was only grudgingly given, as he held Lord Mace Tyrell's children hostage in King's Landing. For now the Tyrell army was on the Golden Road, blocking any advance of the Lannisters to King's Landing. But they could easily turn around and march towards King's Landing. The Greyjoys were apparently about to convulse the Iron Islands in civil war as Balon Greyjoy's brothers contended for their dead sibling's titles. There was even a rumor that Theon Greyjoy yet lived and would also challenge for the right to rule the ironmen. As for the Dornish, his letters to them were answered by Prince Doran with only a question: Would King Stannis give them justice for his dead sister and her children? He would, he answered, once Gregor Clegane was in his hands. They had not yet sent a reply to his last letter.

Stannis wrapped his cloak around his body as he looked to the cold grey skies. Winter was coming, and soon, and this winter was supposed to be long and cold and only the gods knew what would happen between now and spring. God, Stannis had to remind himself. The Lord of Light was his god now.

Before leaving King's Landing they had received word that the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, was calling on the formation of the old religious warrior orders. He was proclaiming to the realm that Stannis would force the people to accept his new lord or they would die in the flames as sacrifices. They had to fight now before Stannis burned them all in his god's fires.

It was not true, as far as Stannis was concerned. He knew he could not win the Seven Kingdoms' support if the people believed he would destroy their gods and replace them with his. Already he had done so on Dragonstone and there had been resistance. The burning of the captured Lannister soldiers in King's Landing told him more. Men would die in the most horrible ways before they renounced their gods. But he had made promises, to the woman who had made his victories so far possible. She already demanded he ban the Seven and the old gods and the Drowned God and all the others. If he agreed, then the blood would flow and the realm would convulse and be swept by fire and pain and he would be the King of a pile of bones. Many would cave in and renounce their gods to save their lives, but they would not be true believers and in their hearts they would wait for the day when he was weak, or old, or when he was dead and his daughter succeeded him, and then they would rise up and strike.

As he thought on this he felt a sudden warmness in the air. It was the heat of the red woman preceding her even before she stood by his side.

"Good morning, Your Grace," Melisandre said to him.

"Come," he said to her and his squire. "Let us inspect the ruins and see what Clegane has left us."

As they mounted their horses Stannis looked at her and felt the stirrings still there. Stannis and Melisandre had not shared a bed since King's Landing, but the heat of her and the lust he still felt for her represented a weakness he still had to be wary of. Already he knew the men of the army whispered about him and her, and he was sure some of those whispers must have reached his wife's ears on Dragonstone by now. It was his wife who had brought Melisandre from the east in the first place. He had been wary of her from the start but now she had been instrumental in his victories and he felt more sexual attraction to her than he ever had for his wife. But he controlled his urges and had no more contact with her of that kind.

Inside the main courtyard of Harrenhal all was a ruin, at least as much of a ruin as it was possible to make with fire on stone. Even dragon fire had not totally ruined the castle three hundred years ago. But still many stones were cracked and steam rose where the stones were still cooling. Walls here and there were torn down and the stables and armory and bathhouse were destroyed, one of his commanders reported. The kitchens still stood but all of the ovens had been wrecked and the drains and sewage system were blocked up. The storerooms were intact but were empty of food and drink and fodder.

Of the inhabitants almost all were gone or dead. They found seven bodies, some burnt beyond recognition, all that remained of the household staff that had not managed to escape. Only one person was found alive, a terrified man who had hidden in the lower levels, who said he was a clerk for the steward. He told them as much as he could but had seen little, hiding when the Mountain's men wrecked the place and then surviving in a water cistern while the fires raged.

Several heads were on spikes over the main gate, somehow undamaged by the fires. The clerk pointed out Vargo Hoat's, tarred and picked over by crows but still distinguishable by its long ropey beard.

"The Mountain tortured him for days, Your Grace," said the clerk. "His screams were awful to hear."

"We heard Lord Tywin Lannister ordered his death, even though Hoat and his men were in his pay," Melisandre said, the information coming from the baker's boy Hot Pie.

"Yes, my lady," the clerk answered her, looking down, unable to meant her steady gaze. "They say he tried to kidnap Princess Myrcella and Lady Stark so Lord Tywin ordered his death."

Stannis grunted. This he already knew. "Those who escaped say Ser Amory Lorch was also killed here. By the Imp's sellsword."

"Yes, Your Grace, it is true. I hear Ser Amory tried to kill the Imp. The maester…he said that Ser Amory was trying to…to contact you, Your Grace, so the Imp confronted him."

It was true, though Stannis did not say so to this lowly clerk. He had sent a letter, asking the commander of Harrenhal to open its gates to his men. Lorch was in charge here and he had received that letter and had been agreeable to the idea. One raven letter was sent to King's Landing from Lorch, asking what his reward would be if he opened the gates. The greed of the man, Stannis thought now. He was like all the rest, expecting something before they had done a thing for their King. Those with him knew better. Lorch did not. He was dead now so it mattered not.

Stannis asked the clerk some more questions and when he was satisfied the boy Hot Pie had been telling the truth about Harrenhal he sent the clerk to the camp and told one of his officers to find him food and a place in the army where he would be useful.

"These Lannisters are killing each other faster than we can," Stannis said and his men agreed. "But they are not defeated yet," he added and no one said a word. He looked at his officers, all lords of one sort or another, some from Dragonstone and the lands and islands of Blackwater Bay, others relations of his wife, some more formerly with Renly's army. Most were lickspittles and would agree with whatever he said. He wished Ser Davos was here but he could not spare him from King's Landing. He did not trust anyone else to continue the supervising of rebuilding and of bringing in supplies for winter. Certainly not Littlefinger, whose loyalties were still uncertain despite his hitching his wagon to Stannis' claim to the Iron Throne. Littlefinger had proved very useful in getting the economy moving again, in setting up a system of loan repayments to their creditors, of ensuring his army had food and he had coin to pay his men. But he was still someone he could not trust completely, maybe not ever. His desire to go to the Vale had only raised Stannis' suspicions further.

Stannis and Melisandre and Devan remounted their horses and so did the rest. They went out the main gate to return to the fortified army camp. As they crossed the field some riders came from the west. The men pulled up and Stannis saw the leader was one of his cavalry commanders.

"What news?" Stannis asked him right away.

"Our scouts report that the Mountain's men are heading for the crossing of the Red Fork below Riverrun, Your Grace."

"As expected," Stannis said. "Keep out scouts and patrols but do not press on. They are too far ahead by now to pursue."

"As you command, Your Grace," the man replied and he and his men turned their horses around and started for the west again.

So the Mountain escaped, taking with him all of the food stored at Harrenhal and laying the castle to further ruin. There was nothing they could do about that. Stannis was still bereft of cavalry, having lost much in the Battle of King's Landing. He could not pursue the Mountain with any kind of force that could expect to catch him and destroy him before he reached the Lannister lands near the Golden Tooth.

Back at his tent Stannis sat with Melisandre and then he called for the maester he had brought from King's Landing. All of the ravens of Harrenhal had been killed by the Mountain's men but Stannis had brought his own cages of ravens trained to fly back to the capital. He spoke and the maester wrote his letter to Ser Davos. Stannis described what they found and told Davos to send any news by raven to Harrenhal and to keep the supplies coming up the Kingsroad.

"That is all," Stannis told the maester and he soon left. He then turned to the red woman. "I must make a decision. Press on to the west or return to King's Landing. What have your fires told you?"

"Little of late, Your Grace. The winds of war are brewing in many places but it is cloudy and hard to know what is happening. I see storm clouds to the north and the west and the east."

"The east? Do you mean King's Landing?"

She shook her head. "Further east. Across the Narrow Sea. I warned you already that something is awakening. A Targaryen princess with three dragons."

"Yes, this you have already told me," Stannis said impatiently. "But she is far away and we have enemies here, now. What of them? What will they do?"

"Perhaps I will see more tonight."

Stannis nodded. She saw it when she saw it and not before no matter how much he pestered her. She had not failed him yet, so he let it go, for the moment.

"That is all for now," he told her. "I have other matters to attend to."

Melisandre stood and dipped her head to him. "As you wish, Your Grace."

After she left Stannis felt a chill enter his bones and he shivered slightly. It was not an illness, only the cold returning as the heat of the red woman went with her. He shook off his chill and called for his squire Devan and gave him a message. A short time later Devan reappeared.

"The baker's boy is here, Your Grace," Devan said.

"Bring him in and you remain as well," Stannis ordered and then Devan led Hot Pie in and the boy fell to one knee and Stannis told him to get up. "I have bad news, I am afraid," Stannis told him. "You must tell your people that Harrenhal is not a fit place to live anymore."

"I will tell them, Your Grace. May…may they stay with your army?"

"They may…but not you."

Hot Pie gaped at him. "I...I don't understand, Your Grace."

Stannis knew the boy would not like this but it had to be done. "You confess to your crimes in King's Landing?"

"I do, Your Grace," Hot Pie said, his eyes cast down as if shamed by what he had done.

"Why did you steal?"

"I was hungry. My mum died and some men took her shop and kicked me out on the streets, Your Grace."

"An unfortunate life you have had," Stannis said to him. "But you made a promise to take the black and you were absolved of your crimes. Yet here you still are, very far south of the Wall."

Hot Pie suddenly seemed to understand and his face blanched. "You want me to…to go to the Wall, Your Grace?"

"You have done a good service for the people of Harrenhal, Hot Pie. But it does not absolve you of your crimes, no matter what the circumstances of them. You swore to take the black and were released from the cells. Now you must make good on your promise."

Hot Pie stared at him for a long moment and then dipped his head. "I will take the black, Your Grace."

"Good. I have three men to go with you. They have been caught thieving from the army stores and I gave them a choice, their hands cut off or the Wall. You will leave tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Grace," Hot Pie said in a forlorn voice.

"Devan will see you have a horse and some food for the journey. You will tell the people you meet on the way that their King has sent you to the Wall and they are to help you. That is all."

Hot Pie was escorted out. Stannis knew the baker's boy would curse him for his fate but he had done the crime, had swore to take the black, and so he should.

Hot Pie had only gone for a moment when Devan returned, looking worried. "What is it?" Stannis said sharply.

"Your Grace…Melisandre wanted to speak with the baker's boy. She took him to her tent."

Stannis grounded his teeth. He knew what this was about. She wanted to know more about Gendry, Robert's bastard son. Stannis had not told her about Gendry, not even when his first suspicions about the boy smith came when Jon Arryn began to question the parentage of Cersei Lannister's children. When that business had begun well over a year ago, almost two years now, Melisandre had only recently arrived on Dragonstone and he was still not sure what to make of this woman who had so overwhelming had his wife and many others under her spell.

Later, she learned of Robert's bastard Edric Storm. This bastard was no secret, having been born to a noble woman, so Robert had to acknowledge him. After the war began Melisandre insisted that Edric be taken to Dragonstone. When he pestered her on the why of it, she said his blood was the blood of a king, and it had powers that would aid their cause. At first he believed she wanted just some of his blood but she admitted the boy had to die in her fires for her god's powers to work. In anger, he refused.

As he thought on this Devan stood there, waiting on him. Stannis was about to tell him to go get the baker's boy and send him and the others on their way to the Wall, now, today, but they were interrupted. An officer came and said a despatch rider was outside, coming from King's Landing with messages from Ser Davos. Stannis bid him enter, took the messages and told Devan to see the man had food and a place to rest. He would deal with the baker's boy later.

He read the messages quickly. Davos reported two main developments. First, Mace Tyrell had visited King's Landing, demanding to see his children. Stannis seethed as he read this. Tyrell waited for him to leave the city before he came, knowing too well Stannis would refuse him and be angered. Ser Davis had granted the request, and made sure he had been present as well. The girl had composed herself well, telling her father that they were well cared for and had no need of anything. Ser Loras, on the other hand, was angry and demanded that at least his sister be released. Mace Tyrell said as much, that her release was part of the terms of the agreement. But Ser Davos knew Stannis' mind on this and refused to release the girl. Mace Tyrell left in an angry mood. Stannis was a bit mad Davos had let Tyrell see his children, but perhaps it was better this way, as Tyrell would have been very suspicious if they had refused his request. As far as Stannis was concerned, Mace Tyrell was a traitor would was lucky he still had his head and an opportunity to prove his loyalty to his rightful King.

The second development was more ominous. Ned Stark had written from Winterfell and the maester of Castle Black had as well. Ser Davos had included both letters in his despatches. Ned Stark's letter was brief in his description of what was happening at the Wall, only saying the wildlings were on the march, sending attacks against the Wall at Castle Black and the Shadow Tower, and that he was raising the North to go to their aid. Good, Stannis thought, that is your duty. He knew he did not have to remind Ned Stark of what his position as Warden of the North entailed.

Then he read Maester Aemon's letter. It said much of the same and included the fact that the men of the Watch had been led by Ned Stark's bastard, Jon Snow, after Lord Commander Mormont and many of his leaders were killed in an expedition to the Fist of the First Men. Then Stannis came to a sentence that made his blood run cold.

"…_the Others may be involved in the attacks, according to reports of the survivors from the Fist of the First Men, reports of blue-eyed wights and pale riders on dead horses_…"

The Others. A legend of an age long past. Could they be on the march? Could this be the enemy Melisandre had so often mentioned but never gave details about?

After he thought on this for a long while, Devan brought him lemon water and bread and honey and Stannis had a mid-morning snack. Shortly after Devan cleared away the dish and cup, Melisandre entered the tent. He said nothing to her as she sat down. "I hear the baker's boy is going to the Wall after all, Your Grace," she said.

"I know you were talking to him."

"Yes. I offered him a drink and its contents made him speak on many things he should not have spoken on."

"Such as?"

"I know he is infatuated with one of the serving girls. I know he is a craven at heart but he does brave things when he must. I know he was great friends with Arya Stark and that he admires Lord Stark a great deal. And I know he does not want to go to the Wall."

"He is a thief and he made a promise that I am making sure he keeps."

"And what if it was the other boy, Gendry, your brother's bastard?" she asked and this took him by surprise.

"He committed no crime as far as I know," Stannis replied. "He volunteered for the Night's Watch after Master Mott drove him from his shop at Varys' behest, no doubt to forestall Joffrey from killing the boy."

"If he is truly your brother's son, he has the blood of a king in him."

"As does Edric Storm," Stannis said to her, his face stern, his anger starting to build. "You wanted him, wanted to sacrifice him to our god."

"The blood of a king has many powers."

"I will not let you burn children," Stannis said in his sternest manner. "I have said that enough. I will say it no more."

"You refused me Edric Storm. This Gendry, he is older, is he not? He is not a child, but a grown man."

Stannis ground his teeth. "He is base born, but he is of my blood."

"As are many other of your brother's children scattered throughout Westeros."

Stannis grunted. "Robert was not known for spending a night alone. It matters not if you find any of them. I will not let you harm a child."

"If you let me sacrifice one child, tens of thousands of children will be saved."

"So you say."

"Has the Lord of Light failed you yet, my King?"

"No," Stannis grudgingly admitted.

"Then trust me in this. And this Gendry is a man, not a child. Many men's blood has already been scarified in our cause."

"It matters not. Gendry is far to the north by now."

"The boy Hot Pie says he was heading to Winterfell. He also told me much more. It seems there is more to this Gendry than we knew."

"How so?"

"The baker's boy seems convinced that Gendry is in love with Arya Stark and that Lord Stark approves of the match."

Stannis snorted in derision. "Stark is not a fool enough to let his daughter marry a base born man even if he is Robert's son. Catelyn Stark would certainly never allow it. She despises all bastards."

"Why?"

"The honorable Eddard Stark has one of his own, a son, brought back from the wars of Robert's Rebellion. Raised in Winterfell alongside his legitimate children."

"She must have hated that child."

"So I have heard."

"What is his name?"

"Jon Snow."

"How interesting," Melisandre commented. "Two bastards in Winterfell."

"Not now. Jon Snow joined the Night's Watch, soon after Robert asked Eddard to be his Hand." That still rankled Stannis. He should have been Hand. If he had, then he would have told Robert about Cersei's incest, made him see the truth of it, and Robert would have killed her and her children and the Kingslayer. Then Stannis and his two brothers and Ned Stark and all the rest would now be sitting outside Casterly Rock with a mighty host and Tywin Lannister and his son the Imp would be shitting their breeches inside. Robert was terrible at being a king, but he was unstoppable in war, as the Targaryens learned to their regret. But Robert never loved Stannis, and chose his other brother, his friend, Ned Stark, to be Hand, and much folly came from that one decision.

"He is at the Wall now?" Melisandre said about Jon Snow. "That is where our enemy will be as well."

Stannis stared at her, long and hard. "Our enemy is in Casterly Rock and Lannisport."

"One enemy," she replied. "Our true enemy has not yet reveal himself but soon will, Your Grace. I see storm clouds in the north, a great awakening, and an ancient enemy walking the world again."

Stannis felt a chill again and this time it was not because he was cold. The red woman had done this so many times now he found it hard to be surprised but still he was. She knew. She did not give details but she knew enough that it made him believe, believe in her and her god.

He said nothing of this and only handed her Ser Davos' letter and the letters from Stark and Maester Aemon. She took them and read quickly.

After she was done she lay the letters on the table and sighed deeply. "It has begun."

"Our enemy has awaken?"

"Yes, Your Grace. We must go to Ned Stark and the Wall's aid."

Stannis stared at her. What madness was this now? "Speak plainly woman."

She suddenly rushed to his side and knelt before him, her warm hand on his, as she stared up at him, her eyes almost seemingly ablaze. "You must lead your army north. You must lead all of the armies north before it is too late. Now is the time of the great battle. Now it is drawing near. You will be the savior of the world, my King. When you lead the armies against the force of darkness, against the Great Other, you will be hailed the one true king and savior of these lands. Of all lands."

Stannis took a deep breath and then another before he spoke. "I cannot turn my back on the Iron Throne and the Lannisters! I have come too far to do that now!"

She nodded slowly. "Yes, we have come far, Your Grace. But these things will matter not. The Night's Watch and Ned Stark cannot hope to hold back the Others alone. He…"

"The Wall will hold them back. Long enough until I defeat the Lannisters and unite the Seven Kingdoms once more."

"Perhaps…or the Wall could fall."

"What do you know?" She saw much in her fires but he wondered if she told him everything.

"Little and less than before. I see things but not all. I can help you destroy the Lannisters, the Greyjoys, all those who still oppose you if that is your will. But I need the blood of a king."

That again. He was sick to death of her asking. "If you need the blood of a king, take some of mine if you must."

She shook her head. "No…I need a king's blood, his progeny, his child, and it must be the whole of the child, burnt in my fires."

"I have said I will not give you a child to burn! Ask me no more!"

He was standing now, his anger filling him up. He glared at her and she stood as well and now he knew what she wanted even before she said it.

"Then give me Gendry."

He knew he was defeated. She had not failed him yet with her powers, and all he could see around him were enemies and those reluctant to lend him support, waiting to jump from one side to the other depending on the fortunes of war. He nodded once, and it was done. "I will send a message to Winterfell, tell them to send the smith south again."

"That would not be the best course of action, Your Grace," she said. "If we send a letter they will protect him, hide him, send him away."

"They would not refuse a royal decree."

"They may. Stark has already refused to send his army south again."

He bristled once more. "For good reasons and a good thing he did not or he would be far away from the Wall where he is needed. But if Ned Stark or his wife or his daughter refuse to hand over the blacksmith then I will clap them all in irons!"

"It may not be as simple as that, Your Grace, where love is involved."

"I cannot believe Catelyn Stark would ever let her daughter marry a bastard."

"Perhaps you are right, Your Grace. But we must take the smith unawares or he will slip through our fingers. I need his blood. There may be another way. The Freys will help us."

He looked at her in puzzlement. "Stop speaking in riddles."

"Hot Pie said Arya Stark is betrothed to one of Walder Frey's sons, but she hates it and claims she won't go through with it when the time comes. If we tell them, they could…"

But Stannis interrupted her before she could finish. "If Walder Frey learns this he will take it as an insult. More so if he learns about Gendry and the girl. He will never forgive the Starks. I cannot have any more rancor between noble houses on my side. If you want him, find another way."

She thought for a moment and then smiled. "The men you send north to take the black. They could capture him in return for pardons. Give them a royal warrant for his arrest in case anyone tries to stop them."

Stannis wanted the matter concluded as it irked him to no end. "It will be done. Now…to the war." He unrolled a map of Westeros on the table by the candles. "What is our next move? We cannot go north…not yet at least. I would sooner turn back to King's Landing and wait out the winter, but if you say the Others are coming, as it now seems likely, then we cannot wait for winter to begin. We must defeat the Lannisters now."

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "Not an easy task. The lion has too many heads. If we cut off one, others grow in their place. Tywin Lannister dies, his son and brother take over. Joffrey dies, his brother and uncle the Imp take over. They are short of men, so they reinstate the religious orders. And we know they have no lack of gold to buy arms and ships."

Stannis was listening but it was nothing new to him. His eyes kept going to the Iron Islands nearby the Lannister homelands. "The Greyjoys. Ships they have plenty of, and no lack of brave warriors. Already they have done our cause a service by attacking Lannisport. We could offer them an alliance if they aid us in our attack on the Lannister homelands."

"Yes," Melisandre replied with vigor, looking to the Iron Islands. "But what would they want in return?"

Stannis knew what they wanted. "Independence."

"They claim to already have that, Your Grace. What is the saying you have in Westeros? To pay someone in their own coin?"

"Yes," Stannis answered, knowing she was right once more. "Then I will make it so they get more than the Iron Islands. If they attack Lannisport and help us lay siege to Casterly Rock…I will give the Greyjoys both when the war is finished."

"An excellent plan, Your Grace. If they agree. If they are united. The stories from the west say otherwise."

"Then they will drown in their own blood and I will be well rid of them."

"The Greyjoys will give you an advantage we cannot dismiss so lightly, Your Grace. The faster we defeat the Lannisters the quicker we can march north and face the true enemy."

"Then let us waste no time. We must write many letters. Call for the maester."

Once again she defied him and once again he saw she was right. "I think we best compose these letters ourselves. The fewer who know your plans the better, Your Grace."

So they sat and wrote and it took the better part of the day. First, a second reply to Ser Davos. He was to continue to send a steady stream of supplies to Harrenhal. It's store rooms were still undamaged. It would serve as a forward supply base. Stannis also wrote orders for the Tyrell army which Davos was to pass on, along with Stannis' stern reminder to Mace Tyrell that he was once a rebel and had yet to prove his loyalty in battle.

A second letter was sent to Littlefinger. He could begin his inquires into the state of affairs in the Vale and try to persuade Lysa Arryn to send some force to help her true King. But he was not to leave for there…yet.

A third letter was sent to King's Landing where it would be sent by ship or raven to the Wall. King Stannis would send as many men and supplies as he could spare, but that would be little until the war in the south was done.

A fourth letter was written for the Greyjoys. Stannis knew how prickly they were about accepting 'gifts'. These ironmen took what they wanted, they did not accept it from others. So he wrote only asking for an alliance, hinting at what they would get, but not offering it outright. The phrase _'keep whatever Lannister lands, ports, and castles you can seize'_ seemed to cover all the necessary promises that he could not openly state for fear of insulting them. They might not like such an offer, coming from him, the one commander who had beaten the Iron Fleet at sea in living memory. But he was their true King and they would join him or suffer the consequences after the war was over. He would have to wait until he reached Riverrun to send this message as he had no birds for Pyke.

A fifth letter was for the Vale, once more demanding Lysa Arryn send forces to his aid. If she refused again and if Littlefinger had no luck in trying to persuade her, then he would have no choice but to brand her a traitor to the realm. Again he would have to wait until he reached Riverrun to send it by raven as he could not trust the hill tribes of the Vale to honor a royal dispatch rider after they had served the Imp so well in his battles.

A sixth letter he sent to Walder Frey, demanding he send some force, whatever he could, and supplies.

A seventh was sent to Riverrun, telling them he would be there soon and asking for supplies, though he could expect little from them.

After he called for ravens and riders to deliver the letters he could, the eighth letter was written. It was a royal decree calling for the arrest of Gendry Waters, to be seized and placed in irons, and sent to appear before King Stannis, wherever he may be.

When this last letter was done Stannis called for the three men he found guilty of stealing from the army stores. All three had been flogged and stripped of their arms and surcoats and sigils and placed in manacles. When they appeared before him and saw the red woman next to him they all quaked in terror and fell to their knees and begged for mercy, saying he promised them the Wall.

"You are not going to the Wall," Stannis told them. "You are going only as far as Winterfell. You will arrest someone for me and return him to wherever I am. If you do this you will receive a pardon, all of you." He told them the details and they gladly accepted and thanked him for his mercy.

"One more thing," Melisandre told them before they left. "You will speak to no one of this task. The baker's boy Hot Pie will go with you as far as Winterfell and then he will go to the Wall. You will tell him nothing of these matters. Befriend him, for he knows this bastard and will help you find him and bring him into your confidence. That is all."

They promised to do all they could and then Stannis called Devan and told him to have these three cleaned up and have their arms and armor returned to them. Stannis did not know the three men well, and they were thieves, but he knew they would do their best to carry out his orders or they would be burned alive if he ever found them again.

That night after the supper hour when it began to grow dark Melisandre and her many followers built a huge bonfire in the midst of the camp and began the nightly rituals. As she chanted and brought her followers to heights of religious favor she seemed almost to grow in size and her eyes blazed with fire.

When it was done they retired to his tent. "I have seen many things in the flames," she said as he poured her a drink.

"Tell me it all," Stannis said eagerly as he sat next to her at his table.

"The Wall will fall."

That was grievous news he did not want to hear. "When? How?"

"In the flames I saw it tumble and collapse and fall in ruins. Why, I know not. When, I also know not. But the Others will come south. I saw them, walking over the rubble of a castle, blue eyes on all of them, even in my red flames."

"We cannot do anything about them until we deal with our enemies here. What of the Lannisters?"

"They are in turmoil. The Queen hates her brother."

"This is not news. Cersei has always despised the Imp."

"I saw her face, plainly, and she was full of fear. She held a dagger, and it dripped blood…the Imp's blood. The Imp also held a dagger."

Stannis grinned, as much of a grin as he ever allowed himself. "Good. Let them cut each other's throats."

"He did not look at her. He seemed to be looking right at me, not his sister."

That worried Stannis. What she saw in the fires could be interpreted to mean many things, but she was rarely wrong. "What does it mean?"

"Many things perhaps. The Imp wants me dead, as I already know. Or he sent someone to kill me, which would not be surprising."

"I will double your guards," Stannis said at once. He could not lose her, not now, when all she had been saying seemed to be coming true. She accepted gracefully, and then bid him goodnight.

The next morning dawned cloudy and grey, the sky overcast. Soon after breakfast the three thieves and the baker's boy Hot Pie were sent on their way north. Stannis saw them leave from afar. As Hot Pie was about to mount his horse a young girl his age ran to him and embraced him and kissed him in front of all who could see. She was crying, Stannis could see, as she wiped her eyes. Then Hot Pie gave her one last hug and mounted his horse and they soon left the camp.

Stannis and Devan and Melisandre found the commanders at an open air command pavilion for the morning meeting as usual. "Today, my commanders," Stannis began. "We break camp."

"Where to, Your Grace?" asked one senior commander, one of his wife's relations.

"West," Stannis told them. "We are invading the Lannister lands. It is time to end this war, now, before winter comes. See to your men. We make for the Riverroad and then turn west."

The camped began to come apart in an orderly fashion and by mid-morning they were on their way to the Riverroad. As Stannis sat on his horse, watching them march by, he looked up at the grey sky and felt something soft and wet touch his face. Soon more flakes of snow drifted down and Stannis silently cursed this bad luck. He just hoped and prayed that they had enough time to deal with one enemy before the next was upon them.


	12. Chapter 12 Varys

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 12 Varys**

That Ser Jorah Mormont was unwelcome on board the _Shy Maid_ at the River Rhoyne port of Selhorys was quickly made clear to Lord Varys by Lord Jon Connington.

"I ought to cut your throat and dump your body in the river," Connington said to Varys in a low growl as soon as Varys reappeared on the wharf with the hulking Mormont at his side. "We have no need of sellswords," Connington said to Mormont from the deck of the boat. "Best be on your way." As he said this last his hand rested on the pommel of his sword at his waist. Behind him Duck and Yandry were stowing supplies in the hold. They now stood behind Connington and also fingered weapons.

"This is no mere sellsword," Varys said from the wharf. "This is Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. He has just come from the east and has much to tell us."

Young Aegon had appeared on deck as Varys introduced Ser Jorah. "From where in the east?" Aegon asked.

"Meereen," Ser Jorah said after a moment. "By way of the Dothraki Sea, Qarth, Astapor and Yunkai." His eyes lingered on Aegon and Varys knew he wondered who this lad was. Varys had told him nothing about who was on the boat, only that they were seeking the Golden Company to hire it for Princess Daenerys. Even that was not quite true, as they were hiring it for Aegon, the lanky blue haired, almost purple-eyed youth now addressing Ser Jorah.

Connington stared up at the exiled knight. "And what were you doing in the east…ser?"

Mormont looked to Varys and then back to Connington. "I will say nothing more until you tell me your names and why you seek to help the princess."

Connington snarled at Varys. "How much have you told him?"

"Little and much," Varys replied in a cryptic way. "I chanced on him in the town. He recognized me from my days in the west. Now we can continue this discussion here on the wharf where many eyes might see and ears might hear, or we can go below."

Connington took a deep breath and then nodded once and turned to Duck. "Take his weapons."

Mormont made a low growling sound in his throat, almost like the bear that was his sigil, and then he undid his sword belt and handed it and a dagger over to Duck.

Moments later Varys and Mormont and Connington were in the latter's cabin, sitting at the narrow table with a bottle of wine and three cups. "Speak and be quick about it," Connington told the pair sitting across from him, squeezed close together in the small cabin. "The Dothraki are near and we should be off soon.

Ser Jorah spoke first. "You know my name. I do not know yours."

"Are you truly from Bear Island?" Connington asked instead of answering the request.

"Aye."

"Then you know the lord of Bear Island."

Ser Jorah's eyes grew sad for a moment. "There is no lord of Bear Island anymore. There is a lady."

"What happened to the lord?" Connington asked. Varys knew Connington knew the answer, as Varys told him all the news from the west when he arrived on the _Shy Maid_, including the part about Mormont's father, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, being killed by his own men.

Mormont took a deep drink before he spoke. "After the lord grew in age he gave up his titles and lands to his son and joined the Night's Watch where he quickly rose to become commander, and, according to Lord Varys' news, he died as such," Mormont said, taking another drink of wine before continuing. "But his son never became a true lord of Bear Island. He shamed his family and fled in exile."

"Shamed his family how?"

"I sold two criminals into slavery. Ned Stark branded me a lawbreaker for the act."

"Ned Stark," Connington said with contempt after he took a drink of wine. "I take it you have no love for Stark?"

"I cursed his name for many years," Ser Jorah admitted. "But it did no good. I had broken the law and fled from its justice. There was no way for me to return home. So I made a life for myself this side of the Narrow Sea."

"You are Ser Jorah Mormont," Connington said as if satisfied of this truth. "You asked my name. I am Griff."

Mormont stared at him for a long moment. "Griff…Lord Varys has told me little except that you plan to go east. I know why he goes east. I will tell you all I know…but first tell me why do you and those on this boat want to go east?"

Connington looked to Varys and then back to Mormont. "We seek to join Daenerys Targaryen. Has not Lord Varys told you this?"

Varys said nothing as Mormont tightened his grip on his cup. "He has. And I know Varys' reasons. What are yours?"

"To help her return to Westeros," Connington answered. "We are in the pay of Ser Illyrio Mopatis, as I as sure Varys told you already."

"So you are a sellsword?" Mormont said to Connington and Connington could not help but bristle.

"I am not…" and then he stopped, realizing he had said too much and had acted offended when he shouldn't have. He was too long a lord and once the Hand of a King to let the insult pass uncaring, Varys noted.

Mormont grunted, stood and drained his cup. "I thank you for the wine. I must be on my way."

Connington shrugged. "So be it."

Varys looked from one to the other and let out a sigh. "He is Lord Jon Connington."

Connington stared daggers at Varys, but said nothing as Mormont sat again and gaped at him. "They said you were dead."

"And they say you sold your soul to a beautiful woman," Connington shot back. "I have heard of you, Ser Jorah of Bear Island, even though we have never met. When one lives in the east as long as I have strange tales come to one's ears. Of an exiled knight with a beautiful wife who spent more than he could ever hope to repay. Selling his sword where he could, and finally ending up with the Dothraki as an interpreter."

"I have a gift for tongues," Ser Jorah said in a dismissive way, not willing to discuss his past any more it seemed. "And how are you still alive? Mad Aerys exiled you and the tales in the free company camps say you drank yourself to death."

Connington gave Varys another dirty look. "A fiction, prepared to cover my true purpose, to help the Targaryens return to the Iron Throne. The whole realm knows Rhaegar was my friend. I would see his family name and honor restored to its rightful place."

"While regaining your own lands and titles I presume," Mormont said.

"No more than you have wished for I am sure," Connington shot back.

Varys gave a little giggle. "Well, it seems we have some common ground here after all."

The two exiled men of the west ignored him as they stared at each other across the table. "So you seek Daenerys," said Mormont. "If so, and if you know Illyrio, then you know she married Khal Drogo. I was at the wedding. Strange, I do not recall you being there. I also do not recall Daenerys or her brother Viserys ever mentioning your name."

"Because they do not know me. In Illyrio's grand schemes I had another role to play," Connington told him. "If Khal Drogo dragged his feet, as the Dothraki are wont to do when it suits them, I was to seek out the Golden Company and pay for its swords for our cause. Now that the Khal and Viserys are dead, that time has come."

Mormont turned to Varys and grunted. "At least some words that come from you are truths."

Varys sighed in a theatrical manner. "It grows tiresome to have my words always doubted."

Connington seemed displeased that Mormont knew of the Golden Company plans. "How much have you told him?"

Varys knew what he meant. Did I tell him about Aegon? Most certainly not. "I have revealed the truth, as Ser Jorah so justly pointed out. We seek to hire the Golden Company. Viserys was to lead them in the original plan, and if Khal Drogo had lived and kept his promise we would have the Golden Company and the Dothraki on our side. And what force in Westeros could stop them both? But all that is finished now. As you just pointed out, Khal Drogo is dead. Viserys as well. It falls to Princess Daenerys to take up the crown." A small lie but Mormont need not know about Aegon unless necessary.

"The Golden Company is camped south of here on the west bank of the Rhoyne near Volon Therys," Mormont said.

"Volon Therys?" Connington said, unable to hide his surprise. Volon Therys was a river port city on the west bank that was north of the Rhoyne River delta where the great city of Volantis lay.

"You expected them somewhere else?" Mormont asked.

"Farther south," came the answer.

"They are giving fits to the Volantene triarchs," Mormont told him. "So many armed men so near their lands. Perhaps Strickland moved them north to avoid any unpleasant confrontations."

"Or the Volantenes are blocking their move south," Varys ventured.

Connington gave Varys a look of exasperation. "I thought your fat fool of a friend paid off one of the triarchs."

"Indeed he has," Varys replied. Illyrio had spent a small fortune on winning a triarch to their side. "But that does not mean he is still in our pocket. Things change, and with an election coming up, none of the triarchs can appear weak. The Golden Company represents a threat they cannot ignore."

"Soon they will leave these lands," Connington said.

"Not soon enough, for the triarchs," Mormont answered. "And how will you ship ten thousand men and their horses and elephants and supplies? The Volantenes are bent on making war on Daenerys. Aye, some merchants may come, and charge you triple, especially if they know you have coin to spare. But the triarchs will give you no ships to help bring armies to her side."

Connington looked uneasy at this news. "When will they sail?"

"Soon," Mormont told him. "Soon all of the east will rise up against her. She has a small army of Unsullied and some free companies but it is not enough. Her enemies may already be laying siege to Meereen."

"Then she must come west," Connington said at once.

"How I wish she would have listened to me," Mormont said in a regretful tone, as if ruing his mistakes. "Now it may be too late."

"How did you come to be here?" Connington asked suddenly and Varys knew they would have to get over this point eventually or Connington would never trust Mormont. "Why are you still not with the princess?"

Mormont started to speak but stopped, his eyes suspicious. Varys sighed again. "If we are to be of any use to our princess, we must begin to trust one another. Lord Connington has told you much. It is time for you to do the same."

Mormont took the bottle of wine and poured himself another cup full, drank and then begin to speak, and soon Connington knew as much as Varys had been told back in the ale house where he and Ser Jorah had spoken earlier in the day.

"Gods," Connington said quietly when they got to Viserys' death.

"It was terrible," Mormont said. "But he deserved it. The Dothraki called it merciful. He died in agony but he died quickly."

Mormont finished his tale with his attempts to get Daenerys to come east before it was too late. But she refused to leave Meereen. He mentioned Ser Barristan Selmy joining them but still refused to divulge why he was here and not there.

"Selmy," Connington growled. "A traitor who deserves a rope more than a new white cloak. Does she know he sided with Robert when it was all done?"

"She knows," Ser Jorah told him. "But he is at her side now, her most trusted guard and advisor."

"And you are not anymore. Why not?"

"I could see she would never leave that cursed place and did not want to die there," Mormont lied.

"But now…?"

"Now I know it was a mistake to leave her side. I will return…if she will have me."

It was a good lie, Varys thought and it seemed Connington had accepted it. He knew they could not tell him the truth. How would this noble friend of Rhaegar take the news that Varys and Ser Jorah had plotted with Robert to kill Viserys and Daenerys? Not well, he was sure. Best not tell him.

The wine was mostly gone by then, and Varys could see that Connington was troubled by all this news from the east. Connington looked down at the table and shook his head. He raised his eyes and looked from Varys to Mormont. "Is she mad? Trying to be queen of Meereen?"

"She could not abandon the people she freed," Mormont said. "Her people, she calls them. And they call her mother, in all the tongues of the east. I tried to tell her to leave...but she would not listen to reason. Then…I left."

Connington seemed about to question him more on this point but fortuitously at that moment came a shout from the deck and they raced up. "What is it?" Connington asked in worry. Haldon had come back and he was sweating and breathing hard.

"The Dothraki," Haldon reported between gasps of air. "They are on the edge of town. The people are beginning to panic."

Varys looked to the city and could see large crowds heading for the wharves. A tumult of noise accompanied them.

"It is time to go," Varys said to Connington quickly and the exiled lord did not question him and began to shout orders to untie the boat.

"I left a horse back in the city," Mormont said with an anxious look to the town.

Duck laughed. "If you want to fight those crowds for it, you are welcome to try."

"We have no room on this boat for a horse," Connington told him as he handed Mormont back his weapons that had been laying on an upturned ale keg. "You may stay or go. The decision is yours."

Mormont hesitated a moment and then spoke swiftly. "I will stay…for now."

He buckled on his weapons and then used his great strength to lend Duck and Yandry a hand pushing them off from the wharf. Soon they were in midstream heading south. Many other boats were shoving off and the wharves were starting to get crowded with people begging for passage. Long after as they drifted downriver they could see smoke rising behind them from the direction of Selhorys.

"What will the Dothraki do?" Varys asked Mormont as they looked back.

"If the Volantenes are wise they will pay them and the Dothraki will leave when they are satisfied with what plunder they have taken and been given."

"And if they are not wise?"

"Then it is a good thing we left when we did," Mormont replied. He turned back from the city and sat on the upturned keg as Varys sat beside him on a crate.

Nearby Yandry manned the tiller and his wife Ysilla went below. Connington and Haldon stood on the bow, and soon Lemore, Duck, and Aegon joined Varys and Mormont at the stern. Varys introduced Ser Jorah to the others naming Aegon 'Young Griff'. Varys could see that Mormont did not easily swallow that name but let it pass for now. At the front of the boat Connington was talking to Haldon who Varys was sure was reporting on all he learned in the town. He also suspected he talked about what Varys had been up to and every now and then Connington glanced back at him.

Mormont began to question the others, as Varys expected. "I know why Varys and Lord Connington are here," Mormont said. "But why are a sellsword and a septa and a chainless maester here? And the boy," he added with a sharp look to Aegon. "Why is he here?"

Varys had a lie prepared, one mixed with some truths, to make it easier to remember and for others to swallow. "Young Griff is a Tyrosh orphan that Illyrio raised and offered to Lord Connington as a squire, to train to be a knight some day. As part of his cover, Connington pretends to be the boy's father."

"This is so," said Aegon. "I owe much to Illyrio and Lord Connington."

"So you are a squire," Mormont said and then he looked to Duck and Lemore. "But why are the rest of you part of this venture? What is your role?"

"I'm here to…" Duck started to say but Lemore put a hand on his arm and shook her head.

There was an uneasy silence for a moment and then Ysilla came on deck to start cooking lunch and Lemore went to help her. As she stood she admonished the others. "Ser Jorah has heard enough for now."

"As you wish," Mormont said but Varys knew he was not satisfied.

"I hear Bear Island is cold," Duck said to Mormont after a moment as if to break the silence with small talk.

"Aye, it is," Ser Jorah replied. "The pack ice fills the bay in winter and the wildlings come across the ice to attack us at night."

"Remind me to never go there," Duck said with a hearty chuckle.

"It has its beauties…and it is home," Mormont said in a somewhat rueful tone. He looked at Duck. "And where do you hail from Ser Rolly? Somewhere in Westeros I am certain."

"Aye. The Reach, a piss water town in the middle of nowhere," Duck replied and now he was looking at Ser Jorah strangely. "You ever serve in the Disputed Lands wars?"

"I've seen a few battles there."

"Which side?"

"All sides at one time or another. Just like you, I am sure."

Duck grunted. "You have the right of that. Last I served in the Golden Company."

"Homeless Harry Strickland is in command now," Mormont said.

"So we have heard," Duck answered. "It will be a day or two before we reach there."

"Then we go east," Mormont said, and Varys saw an intensity in his eyes he had not seen before. He is thinking of her, Varys knew.

"Yes, all of us will go east," Aegon said. "To find my…to find the princess." He looked intently at Mormont. "Tell us, Ser Jorah," he said. "Tell us about her."

Mormont sighed wistfully. "She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Daenerys is a true princess, a true Targaryen, with the silver hair and purple eyes of such, like all her family."

"Did you know her brother…Rhaegar?" Aegon asked eagerly.

"No. I never served at court. I did see him twice, yet both times he was head to toe in plate armor. It was from afar both times, at a tourney once…and on the Trident."

Varys felt as if the ground shifted under him but it was only the boat being rocked gently as Yandry shifted the tiller to avoid a small galley that was nearby. Mormont had been a bannerman of Ned Stark and had served with Robert's armies on the Trident. This was not news he wanted Aegon to know, that an enemy of his father was on this boat.

Aegon stared at Mormont and asked the question Varys feared. "Which side were you on at the Trident?"

Ser Jorah returned the look. "The winning side," he said and for a moment Aegon's features hardened into a grimace of distaste but he controlled his emotions.

"You helped defeat her brother and now you seek to help Daenerys?" Aegon asked, a hard edge to his tone. "It is a strange change of loyalty for you Ser Jorah."

"And you are awfully well-versed in the history of the west and of the Targaryen family for a mere squire," Mormont said in return.

Aegon flushed. "I am not…"

"Enough," said Connington sharply from nearby. "Griff, go below."

Aegon had a protest on his lips but let it pass and went below.

Connington stared at Mormont. "I told Lord Varys not to pry into my people's lives too much or he would end up in the river. The same goes for you…ser."

"Aye…my lord," Ser Jorah answered and after that he asked no more questions.

Later that night they tied up on the west bank of the river, still more than half a day sail from the place where the Golden Company was supposed to be located now. After the boat was secure, Connington took his usual post as guard while the others rested. Varys and Mormont bedded down on the deck side by side. After a short time, Varys heard Mormont snoring. He stood quietly and in whispered steps he crossed the deck and went to the bow where Connington sat on an upturned empty ale keg, spear in hand, long sword at his side, looking at the bank and the river.

"You should sleep," Connington told him in a low whisper.

"We must talk," Varys said, just as quietly.

"I'm listening," the exiled lord told him, never looking at him, always with his eyes roving for danger.

"Mormont and I must leave you soon."

Connington grunted. "For where?"

"You know where."

Now Connington looked at him. "What is your game, Spider? Why did you bring that bear on my boat?"

"I told you I need him, to lead me to the east."

"You say me, not us."

"We will go ahead, to open the way."

"Or fill the princess' head with lies," Connington said with an edge of anger in his tone.

"Why would I do that?" Varys protested in a feigned hurtful tone. "We are all working toward the same goal. I will sound out the princess, tell her of your coming, perhaps even get her to move west so you do not have to move east. It is to the west we are striving for, after all."

"True enough," Connington said grudgingly. "So…what is your plan?"

"Go to Volantis, find a ship, then sail for Meereen. Mormont knows the east, speaks many languages. My little birds do not fly so far, and the ground I have never crossed east of Volantis. He will be my guide. And he will introduce me to the princess."

In the darkness Varys could see Connington smile. "She may cut your head off. I am sure she knows you served the Usurper for many years."

"I am sure Selmy has told her it all by now," Varys replied, a touch of worry in his tone. "But I must chance her wrath if we are to succeed. Our young charge cannot just show up in Meereen and say 'I am the true heir and you must marry me if you want any part of the rule'. According to Mormont she is becoming a true queen in Meereen. She has cross the Red Waste, has won battles, has sacked cities, has raised three dragons at her side. What has Aegon done?"

"Nothing but hide," Connington admitted. "You have the right of it. You must go."

"Delay as long as you can," Varys told him. "Do not head east yet."

"The Volantenes will begin to pressure the Golden Company to move."

"Then take them west if you must move."

That surprised Connington. "West? But…without Daenerys and her dragons…"

"Are you afraid?" Varys asked, sure to sting his pride and he was right. Connington stood and glared at him and shoved his face close to Varys'.

"Eunuch, I don't know what game you play now. But don't try to manipulate me with words. I know the folly of rushing into battle when unprepared."

It all came back to the Battle of the Bells. "You are right, of course," Varys replied. "But the time is now. We cannot wait much longer. Stannis and the Lannisters are at each others throats. Stark and the ironmen vie for the north. The Others may be at the Wall. It is now or never. The time for waiting is done."

"And what of the Volantenes? What if they go east and surround Daenerys and destroy her?"

"If that happens, then Aegon had best not be there."

"But you will be there."

Varys sighed. "Hopefully not. But I must go. If I can get her and her dragons away, I will. They will give us a great advantage."

"Robert defeated Rhaegar without any dragons."

"True. But if Rhaegar had had dragons on the Trident, then we wouldn't be here now having this conversation."

Connington inhaled deeply and let out the deep breath, then rubbed his clean shaven chin before speaking. "Then go, the two of you. Find her. Bring here and the dragons west. We will be waiting."

"Where?" Varys asked eagerly.

"Here…or in Westeros. You and your little birds will soon know I am sure."

"Perhaps it is better if Daenerys meets Aegon after he has won a few victories."

Connington snorted. "Is this also part of Illyrio's master plan?"

Varys tittered. "Oh, my dear lord, if only you knew how little of a master plan there is. Many balls we are juggling. Sometimes one or two fall to the ground, like Viserys and Khal Drogo. But others we keep in the air, and one wrong move and they will fall as well. The secret is to have so many balls that you can always keep at least one in the air."

"Your words hold many truths and lies as always Lord Varys but I am no fool," Connington growled in a low voice. "You and the fat cheese monger had three Targaryen heirs to put on the throne. Which one matters not to you as long as you were the hands behind the schemes that saw a Targaryen restoration."

"But…" Varys began but Connington cut him off.

"Do not try to protest, I know this to be true. But know this. Aegon is the true heir. Daenerys will marry him and be his queen. She will not rule in his stead."

"Of course," Varys said, knowing only time and the gods would decide who would truly inherit the Iron Throne.

The next day was sunny and hot and got much hotter as the day went on. They set off early and soon joined the river traffic going downstream. The majority of the boats were heading south, but they passed two large river barges heading north, packed with Volantene slave soldiers being rowed upstream.

"They have decided to fight," Mormont said with a shake of his head. "The Dothraki will be happy. They enjoy a good fight."

"Yes," Varys agreed. "It seems that the triarchs have decided that they cannot bow to the Dothraki at a time like this."

"They are fools," Mormont replied. "Dothraki do not occupy cities. They will take what they want, put many into chains, and burn the rest. Then they leave. The Volantenes would have been wiser to pay them off."

Varys said nothing to this, only looked around to make sure no one was nearby and then spoke in a low whisper. "We leave the others soon."

"When?" Mormont asked.

"Today, at Volon Therys. Tomorrow at the latest."

"Good," Mormont said in a satisfied tone. "Then we head east. Alone."

"Yes."

"Do they know?"

"Connington knows. I told him last night."

By late afternoon they had arrived at the small city of Volon Therys on the west bank of the Rhoyne. As they tied up the boat at one of the many wharves, Connington addressed Mormont and Varys. "You can buy horses in the city. We need three as well. Go with Haldon, he will take you to a place."

Mormont wasn't even looking at him as he stared along the wharves. "That may be more difficult than you bargained for. The people are leaving here as well."

It was true Varys noted. The wharves were full of boats, but with few people on them. The docks and the buildings nearby were also suspiciously empty of people. "They fear the Dothraki even here."

Connington turned to Haldon. "You best get going before all the horses are gone. These two will go with you. They will take their leave of us here."

Aegon was nearby and he had overheard. He looked at Varys in astonishment. "Lord Varys? I thought…"

"I must go east…Young Griff. I will prepare the way for the rest of you."

"I…yes…of course," Aegon said, obviously disappointed.

Haldon looked at them with impatience. "We must be off."

"Go," said Varys. "Ser Jorah as well. I will join you in a moment."

Mormont said nothing but climbed up on the wharf and Haldon did as well. Varys took Aegon to the deck cabin.

"I thought you would stay with me," Aegon said, his face downcast.

"My prince," Varys began. "I need to reach your aunt before it is too late. She must come west…and I must prepare her for your existence. You cannot show up in Meereen and announce to her that you are her nephew and have a stronger claim. She may believe you…or not. I must prepare her. Mormont knows her, knows the east. He will come with me."

Aegon nodded. "I understand. And what shall I do in the meantime?"

"Win over the Golden Company."

"They are sellswords. We pay them, they follow us."

"It is not so simple. Yes, they are sellswords and take our coin. But to truly have them on your side you must win them over. You. Not Connington. It is time to become a prince, not a boy hiding from his enemies. Connington will guide you, but you must be the leader. You must be the king you were born to be."

Aegon held his head up and there was a look of determination there. "The time of hiding and waiting is over."

"Yes, my prince. First, you must win over the Golden Company. And then…you must decide what to do. Wait for me to return with the princess….or not. The time is ripe to invade the west. Now."

Aegon seemed as surprised as Connington by the suggestion. "But…the dragons…my bride…?"

"The dragons need to grow yet. And many princes have won battles without dragons. As for your bride…I will bring her to you. I swear it on your dead family's memory."

"I will hold you to that promise, Lord Varys."

Connington stuck his head in the doorway. "Varys…it is time you were off."

He made his goodbyes to the strange company and then before he climbed on the wharf Connington had some last words for him. "I will wait a moon's turn, no more. Then we will head west."

"Then you had best head west now. I surely cannot hope to return in a moon's turn."

"So be it. We will meet the Golden Company today. After that…I cannot say."

"Not to worry. I will find you, here, or across the Narrow Sea. Good luck, my lord."

Connington grunted. "And you as well."

In moments he was on the wharf with Mormont and Haldon and they were walking away. The day was cloudless, hot and sultry, and Varys felt the sweat forming on his brow in moments. They went through a warren of small buildings and long, low warehouses and soon came to a crossroads that was empty of traffic. Haldon started walking straight across but Varys stopped and so did Mormont.

"We are not going that way," Varys said to Haldon.

The maester stopped and looked at him. "I know where we can buy horses."

"Then we must say goodbye, Haldon," Varys told him, without further explanation.

"So be it," Haldon said and without another word he kept on walking the way he was heading.

"Dour fellow," Mormont observed as he and Varys returned towards the docks. "You have a plan I take it?"

"We are not going by land, if that's what you mean. If the Golden Company is south of here, and if there are some Volantene soldiers as well, one or the other may stop us and ask us our business. Best to avoid both. We will try to find a boat willing to take us downstream."

"We just left a boat," Mormont observed.

"We need a boat that is heading downstream."

Soon they were back at the docks, much farther downstream than where the _Shy Maid_ was tied up. It took some doing, as most boats were now empty of life, but Varys soon found a small boat whose old and decrepit captain was sleeping off a drunk on the after deck. He smelled of stale wine and sweat. They woke him up and after he finished cursing them in the tongue of Volantis, his bleary eyes were wide open enough to see the ten gold Volantene coins Varys was offering for passage. He snatched them from Varys' hand quick enough and after Varys explained where they wanted to go they were soon heading downstream in the river current.

"You speak the local tongue somewhat well," Mormont said as he and Varys sat near the bow while the captain sat at the stern by the tiller.

"I picked it up in my youth but forget much," Varys admitted.

"That is a story I would like to hear someday. About your youth."

Varys sighed. "It is a long and tragic tale of a boy with no family who was near death every day for many years. No, I think you do not want to hear such a tale."

"You curse your circumstances as all men do at one point or another in their lives."

"Yes," Varys replied. "But my circumstances were forced on me, by the parents I never knew who sold me into slavery, by the man who cut me, and by those who sought to abuse me. Others make their own troubles."

Mormont eyed him sharply. "Aye, they do, as I am sure you know I did. As you are a eunuch I would not expect you to understand what the beauty of a woman can do to a man's soul."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so hasty to judge my feelings towards beauty just because I lack the parts to enjoy it carnally. I too have an eye for beauty, and enjoy the company of others."

Mormont stared at him for a long moment. "Tell me true, Lord Varys, have you ever laid with a woman? Even just to hold her close to you?"

"I have," Varys answered truthfully. "I may lack a sword between my legs but I do have hands and a mouth and tongue. Yes, Ser Jorah, woman have sighed and cried to the gods in my bed. Not many, mind you, and not for long. A man in my position must take care not to get too close to anyone." He had also laid with many men, especially in his youth when his body was all he had to sell to get money for food. But Mormont need not know that.

The bear was grinning at him. "So you have tasted a woman." Then his grin disappeared and his normally grim look reappeared. "But have you loved one? Maybe not, I'd wager. And that is the difference. When you love a woman, you will do anything for her. Forsake your family, your lands, your titles, your vows, even your life if need be. And that's how you end up on the far side of the world on a boat on a river with only a eunuch as a companion."

"Perhaps so," said Varys. "But each choice you made on the way led you here as much as the love of a woman did."

Mormont only grunted and lapsed into silence as he looked out at the river. After a few moments he spoke and Varys was not surprised at what he asked. "That boy, Griff…who is he?"

"A squire."

"Another lie. Griff…named for Connington's seat of Griffin's Roost no doubt. You should have picked another name. Who is he?"

"A squire, I said. An orphaned boy whose parents were killed and who came into Illyrio's care." All true, to a point.

"The more lies you tell me, the greater my wrath when I learn the truth."

Varys tittered. "I am sure your wrath will be great no matter what I tell you. You are not inclined to believe me."

"For good reason."

Mormont left him, walked aft, and asked the captain back at the tiller if he had anything to drink. A jug of ale was produced and Mormont and the captain drank and spoke in the tongue of Volantis. Varys tried to pick it up, but they spoke too fast and his skill was not as good as he was with the Pentoshi and Myrish languages. They went on about the elections, and the triarchs, and about ships, that much at least he knew.

As he looked to the low west bank of the river suddenly he saw a long line of tents. "An encampment," he shouted to Mormont. The exiled knight looked to where he was pointing and spoke to the captain.

"He says it is the Golden Company," Mormont answered. "They have been there almost a moon's turn now. Waiting on your lord, no doubt."

The rows of tents were orderly and there were guards along the river bank, looking out at their boat as it move in mid-stream. But no one challenged them and soon they were past the camp. Then further on they saw another camp, this time with Volantene banners rising above it and Varys knew taking the river had been a wise decision.

The day drifted away and Varys soon felt the heat badly and lay in what little shade the boats small deck cabin provided. Mormont and the captain continued their talks. Then after the supper hour came and passed the sun began to set and the captain produced some bread and cheese. He demanded more money for it and Varys gave him a few silver coins and he seemed satisfied. The fair was meager but it filled the stomach.

Darkness came and still they moved south, a half-moon in the cloudless night sky lighting their way. Finally, Mormont decided to tell Varys what the captain told him.

"The Volantenes are preparing many men and ships to go east to Slaver's Bay, he said. Rumors are flying everywhere. They say they will sail tomorrow, or after the elections. They say that each triarch supports the coming war, or that some do and others don't. He also said that the triarchs are paying for sellswords, and that a good man like me could easily get a position. You…maybe not, he said."

"We need not hide among a company of sellswords, my dear Ser Jorah."

"As a last resort, we may have to. But I know of a way to get a ship. There is a woman, in the Merchant's House. She…"

"Vogarro's whore?"

Mormont grunted. "I should have known you would know of her. Yes. She knows all the captains, all the ships. She can find us a ship."

"We will have a ship, not to worry," Varys said. "Coin I have plenty of and Illyrio has plenty of contacts in this part of the world. Before I left Pentos he told me a ship he hired is waiting here, in case I needed it."

Mormont eyed him carefully. "What other secrets have you been hiding, Spider?"

Varys sighed in his usual manner. "And to think I believed we were becoming such good friends."

Mormont snorted. "I have no need of your friendship. Just the truth."

"The truth is that Illyrio made many plans, some of them now bearing fruit. He planned for many contingencies, this ship being one of them. He is rich beyond rich, and has coin in many banks and places and ships and friends all over the east. We will travel in comfort my friend."

"And does the captain and his crew know we go to Slaver's Bay?"

"Not yet."

Mormont raised his eyebrows. "Aye? Well then. Let us see how they act when you tell them. If they have been waiting in Old Volantis, then they surely have heard all the stories by now."

Varys thought he was being pessimistic but when they arrived in the city the next day, all he feared came true. The ship was there all right, at the docks on the west side of the Rhoyne River mouth. The captain was a tall, stout man with long blond hair in braids and scars on his cheeks and bare arms, wearing a vest of studded boiled leather and with a sword and two daggers on his belt. Not a merchant captain, Varys knew at once, and he began to have doubts. More so as he eyed the crew and saw that they were a motley collection of all the races of the east and west, all armed to the teeth. A pirate ship, he knew then. Illyrio had only given him the name of the ship and the captain's name, and did not tell him exactly who they were. As soon as Varys told the captain where they were to sail, he laughed and told Varys and Mormont to get the fuck off his ship. When Varys protested and said Illyrio would pay double the captain hesitated and told him to go get the coin and bring it back, now, all of it, or he would not sail.

As they walked away from the docks, Mormont summed up what Varys feared. "As soon as we are out of sight of land he will cut our throats and toss our bodies overboard and sail where he wishes."

"Most likely," Varys said, now at a loss, a position he did not enjoy. "I believe we should go see this lady you mentioned."

Mormont smiled slightly and led the way. As they walked they passed many shops and Varys decided it was time to make a disguise again now that his original plan fell through. Mormont knew that they needed a gift for the lady of the Merchant's House or she would not even let them sit at her table. He bought her some soft leather gloves. They got wine and food as well and before long they were heading toward the Merchant's House, a place where they could get a room and where the old woman held court.

As they walked in the sweltering streets there were plenty of signs of the upcoming elections. Dancers and mummers and banners and musicians all trumpeted this triarch or another. Elephants were also plentiful, as was elephant dung. And slaves. They were everywhere, their tattooed faces telling all who they were and what they did, and Varys felt more than one set of eyes glance at his un-tattooed face and wonder why he was a free man and they were not.

They soon found the Merchant's House, a squat four-story building that was long known to be a favorite of foreign travelers in Volantis. Just outside its entrance sat a table with four men sitting at it, calling out to passersby in the Volantis language and the Common Tongue of Westeros that they sought good men for the Windblown, the finest free company in the world. The table had blue and white pennants attached to it.

"There's a fine looking man," said one of the men at the table as he spotted Ser Jorah. "Your sword is needed, good fellow. We pay the best rates and always take the best plunder and share of the women."

Ser Jorah stopped and stared at them. "If you win."

"We always win," said one and Mormont ignored them and kept on into the house with Varys shuffling behind him.

"You know this Windblown company?" Varys asked.

"Aye. They have turned their cloaks more times than a man turns in his bed at night. That's why they always win. Not a company I would join if I had a choice. More so as I fought against them once or twice."

They got a nice large comfortable room on the second floor of the Merchant's House which Varys paid for. After washing some of the dirt of the road from their faces and hands they sat down on the edges of their two beds to have a light meal of wine, dried meat, cheese and bread.

"I could use a bath," Varys said wistfully, the heat not to his liking.

"There is a bathhouse nearby."

"Perhaps later," Varys said as he chewed some bread. The fare was plain but he did not want to risk the common room until he had his disguise prepared.

"There is plenty of tension in the air in Old Volantis," he commented to Mormont later after they had finished eating.

"Aye," said the big knight as he sharpened his sword with a whet stone. Varys was adjusting a black wig he had purchased so it fit better on his bald pate. "The slaves are restless," Mormont continued. "They know Daenerys has freed their brothers and sisters to the east. Now every Volantene slave owner fears what will happen if the fire she started in the east spreads here."

"I have heard it said that there are five slaves to every free man and woman in Volantis."

"Maybe more," replied Mormont. "But they are not our concern." He looked at Varys preparing his disguise. "Do not hope to fool the old woman. I am sure she knows who you are."

"I am sure she does," Varys answered. "It is not for her, but for those who may have eyes nearby when we meet her tomorrow. Also for on the ship we will journey on. Most men despise eunuchs, and I would not like to end up at the bottom of the sea. Or worse."

The next morning they ate their breakfast in the large common room. Varys had his disguise on, the black wig included, with a mole on his left cheek, rough stubble on his cheeks and chin, and he was wearing the rough spun clothing of a common laborer. The ancient wizened lady known as Vogarro's whore sat in a small alcove in the back. As they ate Mormont motioned to the slave girl who served the old woman, told her they requested an audience and put a small silver Volantene coin in her hand. They were just finishing their meal when the girl return and they were told the old woman would see them now.

They sat opposite her and Mormont presented the gift of gloves which she gladly accepted. She was old and had skin like aged parchment, hair as white as snow so thin her pink pate shone through, and faint scars on her cheek where Varys knew a slaver's tattoo had been cut away. He had heard many stories of the old widow of Vogarro, and knew she had once been a slave and a concubine until Vogarro married her.

After some small talk, Mormont got to the point. "We need a ship for passage to Meereen."

"I own no ships."

"You know many captains," Mormont replied.

"Unfortunately, many of these captains are sailing for Volon Therys as we speak," the old woman told them.

"Volon Therys?" Varys asked in surprise. "Why?" Had Aegon already won over the Golden Company?

She looked at him steadily. "The wig does not suit you. Your plump cheeks and body, the way you sit, the slight wisp in your voice that you are trying to hide, all these mark you for a eunuch." She looked back to Mormont. "A eunuch with a Westerosi knight. How odd a pair."

Varys smiled. "The lady is wise. Yes, I am a eunuch, the wig a poor way to keep prying eyes from knowing what I am."

She smiled. "Ah. That eunuch. Even in Old Volantis those with more than pease in their head know of Lord Varys, the master whisperer of Westeros. Yet you are far from King's Landing and the court of king…who is it now?"

"Stannis Baratheon," Mormont told her.

She nodded. "Yes. Another stag. Like his brother. This stag replaces the young lion who replaced the older stag. But who will replace the new stag? Perhaps another young lion...or a young dragon? A queen this time I think."

Mormont bristled. "A ship. Can you help us or not?"

"Your tone shows no respect, good ser."

"He apologizes, my lady," said Varys swiftly.

"I am no lady, only Vogarro's widow," the old woman answered him. "You once supported these stags and lions. Even the old dragon."

"The winds and tides change and so do the fortunes of life," Varys replied.

She smiled. "The winds and tides will soon carry a Volantene fleet to Meereen. The elections end in seven days time. The first order the triarchs will give will be to sail east to Meereen. Your princess of the dragons is soon to be no more. You waste your time heading to Meereen. Sadly, for there are many here who wait for her coming."

"That is why we head to Meereen," Mormont said quickly.

She stared at him. "You plan to take her and her dragons to Westeros, not to Volantis."

"Volantis is on the way," said Varys. "And we will need ships for her army."

"If she still has an army," the old woman replied. "As for ships, they are going to Volon Therys to collect the Golden Company the rumors say."

"Where will the company head?" Mormont asked.

"I know not," came the answer. "But if you need passage to Meereen, there are other sellsword companies in Volantis. One just outside here is recruiting, as I am sure you saw. They need swords. Maybe even eunuchs."

"You have no ships for us?" Varys asked. "Coin we have plenty of."

She stared at him for a long moment and then shook her head. "I have no need of your coin. And you, Lord Varys, I do not trust you. Nor you, ser knight. You say you seek the princess, to take her and her dragons back to Westeros. Or do you seek to kill her, to please your new masters in the west perhaps?"

Mormont pounded his fist on the table and in moments Varys knew it was a mistake. An armed man stepped out of nearby alcove and Varys sensed others nearby. Mormont growled at the old woman. "I would never harm Daenerys! Or give her to those that would!"

"Ah," said the old woman with a slight smile. "I know that look and tone, ser. It is love you fight for, the love of a princess."

Mormont cast his eyes down, said nothing, and sat back in his chair. So it was true. Varys knew he had to try to convince her of his good intentions as well. But what could he say to convince her? Before he could speak she spoke first. "Coin you have plenty of, you say. Then you may find a fool of a captain willing to go east…for the right price. He may fight for the princess for love," she said with a look to Mormont. "But you, Lord Varys, your reasons I cannot fathom, nor do I want to try. I will not help you. Be gone."

She sat back in her chair and looked to the armed man nearby and Varys needed no more hint. He stood, thanked her for her time and then he dragged Mormont away. Back in their room Mormont brooded in silence as Varys sat on his bed thinking on what to do.

"She did not trust you," Mormont said at last, his voice dripping contempt. "I wonder why."

"Bickering about this will not help us get closer to Meereen. We need a ship."

"There are no ships," Mormont said. "If we offer them ten times what it is worth maybe. But even then who knows what they would do to us once at sea? If the old woman had vouched for us and it was a captain she knew, we could feel more comfortable. But I will not board any ship without such assurances."

Varys sighed and knew he was right. They were just two men, and he was no fighter. "Then we must join a sellsword company," he said at last.

"No," Mormont said suddenly, rising from his bed and standing to loom over Varys, his dagger somehow in his hand. "You will not be coming any farther with me until I have some truths from you. Vogarro's whore did not trust you. And neither do I."

Varys gulped. His dagger was up his sleeve as usual, but Mormont had his already out and was but a dagger thrust away from his soft throat. "What do you wish to know?"

"She said the Golden Company has been hired. Ships are racing to take it…where?"

"To Westeros."

That answer staggered Mormont. "But…Daenerys is not here, nor her dragons!"

"They do not need them."

Mormont scoffed. "Connington is a fool. No one will raise a banner and fight on his side if he is without a true Targaryen to claim the Iron Throne."

Varys knew he had to tell him now. "Connington has a true Targaryen at his side."

"Such lies you tell!" Mormont shouted, his eyes wide and filled with anger. "I saw Viserys die! Daenerys is in Meereen. There is no…one…else." The last word died on his lips as if he suddenly understood something. "The boy. Griff. Who is the boy? Tell me!"

"He is Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Elia of Dorne."

Mormont's dagger arm dropped to his side and he looked at Varys in disbelief. "No…he died. The Lannisters killed him."

"A baby did die that day in the Red Keep, but it was not Rhaegar's son. I spirited him away to Pentos, where he has been hiding and preparing to return to the west and claim his birth right."

Mormont staggered back and sat on his bed. "Daenerys is the rightful heir."

Varys sighed. He so hated to disappoint him. "You know Aegon has a stronger claim. For a brief time he was even heir after Rhaegar died. And his claim is still good."

Now Mormont scoffed. "So you say. So says Illyrio. But where is the proof? How do I know you did not just take some boy and tell him a pack of lies to make him believe he was going to be king someday?"

"Did you see his eyes?"

"His…eyes…aye, his eyes. But…" Now Mormont looked troubled. "Connington."

"Yes. He knows, knew it the moment he laid eyes on the boy ten years ago. He had his doubts as well but when he saw him he knew he was Rhaegar's son. They all know. You asked why they were on the boat. To raise him. To teach him. To train him. To be a king."

"You should have told me sooner!" Mormont growled.

"And what would you have done?" Varys asked intently. "Pushed the boy into the river? Slit his throat in the night?"

Mormont looked at him in astonishment. "If you think I would kill a boy just because…"

"You love his aunt, do you not?"

"His…aunt? Daenerys…I…," but he would say no more.

Now Varys was on his feet. "The old woman had the right of it, did she not? You fight for love. You told me that you would give up everything for a woman's love. You have, and you still are. Did she spurn you? Is that why you left Meereen?"

"Aye," he said reluctantly. "She spurned me…and Selmy filled her head with our deeds, our plots to have her killed. That was the last straw for her. She exiled me after that."

Varys could see he was in pain, and so knew he could not tell him their plans for Aegon and Daenerys to marry. He might go mad if he heard that. "Aegon will go west. He will raise his banners and start the war. We must find Daenerys and bring her and the dragons to him. Together they will be unstoppable."

Mormont stared at him and now he had a wary look in his eye. "And if they succeed, who will rule?"

"They will rule, together."

Mormont grunted. "You plan to marry them."

Well, so much for that. "It may come to it."

"She won't have him," Mormont said with certainty. "She is a woman, he is a boy."

"Who will soon be a king if all goes well."

Mormont shook his head in disdain. "So you and the fat man have been planning this all along."

"One such plan."

"And if I cut your throat will your blood tell me the rest?"

Varys tittered. "Not likely."

Mormont put his dagger away. He buckled on his sword and went to the door.

"Where are you off to?" Varys asked.

"I am going to find one of these sellsword companies," the big knight replied and then he was out the door before Varys could say another word.

"There is one just outside!" Varys shouted to the door but it had already closed.

Their room had a window that looked over the main entrance of the Merchant's House. Varys stuck his head out and saw a moment later Ser Jorah walking up the street, again ignoring the calls of the Windblown company men.

Varys quickly adjusted his wig and donned a hat and went out on the street. At first he could not spot Mormont but soon saw his tall head sticking out of the crowds. He stayed far behind and then after a while saw him enter a place. One look at the half-naked girls sitting outside told Varys it was a whorehouse. His blood is up, Varys thought. He needed a woman. Varys knew once he was sated he would be back.

As he walked back to the Merchant's House once more the men of the Windblown company were calling out to passersby. "Last chance," one of them said to a tall man going by. "We sail on the morrow."

Varys knew he had to get them on that ship. He walked to the table and sat opposite the men. "Be off with you tubby," a short, bearded one with the look of Myr said in scorn. "We don't need the likes of you."

"No?" Varys said. "I speak seven languages and can be of great service as a clerk or counter of coins or whatever else you want of me."

"We got a man for that already," said another one, a broad man with one ear missing, speaking the Common Tongue with an accent that marked him from Pentos. "We need good men and their swords, like your big friend."

Suddenly a shadow loomed behind Varys. "You can have my sword. But he comes as well," said Ser Jorah Mormont. Perhaps the whorehouse had no silver-haired purple-eyed whores, Varys thought, as he looked up at Ser Jorah.

The Windblown men smiled. "Very well," said One Ear. "He can be arrow fodder. Sign here, my good men."

The company book was opened and a quill dipped in ink. Mormont signed quickly, using his proper name and title. "Oh, he can write," said the bearded one. "And a 'ser' at that as well. Now you tubby."

Varys wrote down a fake name he used from time to time. One Ear peered at it and said it with difficulty. "Galacian Valton? What kind of name is that?"

"His," said Mormont in a tone that brooked no arguments. "When do we sail for Meereen?"

"Be at the docks, wharf twenty-six, at dawn."

The next day they were there at dawn, two among many other armed men waiting to board a large three masted cog. The night before Varys and Mormont had bought many supplies for the trip, food, wine for Varys' stomach, extra clothing, back packs, and even a studded leather vest and a short sword for Varys.

As they waited Varys spotted three men nearby, all with a Dornish cast to them. Mormont had noticed them as well. "We are not the only Westerosi on this ship. We must be careful with what we say."

More careful than Mormont knew. For these three he suspected he knew, or at least knew of. Another one of Illyrio's secret balls, still in the air. The short squat one he suspected was Quentyn Martell, son of the Prince of Dorne. He had his look. He and his companions were not supposed to be here. What had happened? That plot was supposed to be the last resort. To get Dorne's support. But Illyrio later chose Khal Drogo for Daenerys' husband and the plot with Quentyn Martell in this position was laid aside. Except no one had told Doran Martell. And now with Aegon ready to head west, to raise his banners, Dorne would flock to their lost son, so there was no need to have a Martell marry Daenerys.

Quentyn believed he was going east to seek his queen, Varys now knew. It was the only reason he would be here. She would spurn him as well, he felt. He could not tell Mormont. He would not take it well, another suitor for the woman he loved.

A short time later they were all ordered aboard ship. All around the docks other ships seemed to be getting ready to move out as well. Perhaps other sellsword companies, or more of the Windblown, for Varys had no idea how big the company was. Soon they were heading out of the harbor, and at last Varys was heading to Meereen, and a very uncertain future. But he knew he had one task. Find Daenerys Targaryen and convince her to move west. If she would not listen he had one ace up his sleeve. Tell her that her nephew lived and if she tarried she may arrive too late to claim what she believed to be her birthright. But he had to tread carefully, and above all he could not anger her. Varys had no desire to end up in the belly of a dragon.


	13. Chapter 13 Eddard

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 13 Eddard**

The flames licked up the funeral pyre and soon engulfed the body of the dead young woman, wrapped in furs, with her spear and shield on her breast. The wildlings all stood around and silently prayed to or cursed the gods according to their nature. Ned Stark stood beside Mance Rayder and wondered how he viewed the gods who had been good enough to give him a son but so cruel to take away his young wife.

Dalla's labor lasted more than a day, the baby turned around inside of her so it came out rear first. The old woman who attended her in her last moments had no power to stop the bleeding that came with the difficult birth and neither did Maester Aemon when he was hastily summoned to come back to Mance Rayder's tent. Dalla slowly drifted off with Mance weeping at her side. Ned had been there at the end, he and Robb and Osha coming with the maester, and so they saw Dalla die.

"Do not cry, my love," she told Mance with her last breath and then she was gone and Mance Rayder raised his head to the heavens and screamed his rage at the gods. Then he turned to Thoros, who had been summoned as well as Dalla lay dying. Thoros was still weak and pale from his effort to raise Mance Rayder from the dead. When Dalla died Mance begged Thoros to save her as he had saved him but the red priest told him that with so much blood loss he could do nothing to help her, and was still be too weak to even try.

So they committed her body to the fires, quickly, and said their prayers and prepared themselves for more deaths to come. They found a wet nurse for the baby boy, Osha took Maester Aemon back to Castle Black, and Mance pulled himself together long enough for Ned to talk to him after the ceremonies for Dalla were done.

"Have the crows decided?" was the first thing Mance asked when they sat back inside his large tent, with Tormund and Val sitting at his side as Robb and Ned and Thoros sat opposite them on the fur lined floor. They sipped from cups of hot mulled wine to help drive out the cold and to dull the pain from their losses.

"Not yet," Ned told him. "They have had two votes so far. No one has received two-thirds."

"Your bastard is the cause of that," growled Val. She had shed few tears when her sister had died, but Ned knew she was angry, angry at the gods, and the Others and the Watch and now even him and Jon. "He should withdraw his name and let the older men get on with it."

"Aye," Ned agreed, though he had at first supported Jon's choice to be commander. "Jon's putting his name forth has caused a great division among the Watch. The young ones, those he trained with and led, they want him as Lord Commander. The older men want nothing to do with him. Those of the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch do not know him at all except as one accused of being a traitor."

"How close is the vote?" Mance asked.

"Ser Denys and Cotter Pyke lead," Robb said. "But still do not have two thirds, according to what Sam told me this morning. Jon is third, far ahead of Ser Alliser."

Mance snorted. "Ser Alliser will never be commander. All I have heard of him makes me think he has made too many enemies among the new recruits over the years. Recruits who are now seasoned men of the Watch."

"Aye," Ned said in agreement. "He is most against taking your people into the fold. But Cotter Pyke is equally against it. He arrived this morning from Eastwatch."

Robb took up the tale. "Sam told us he cursed them all as fools for letting Jon Snow put his name in."

"Pyke," Mance said with a grunt. "He and Ser Denys hate each other, that's why Mormont put them at the farthest ends of the Wall."

"Why do they hate each other?" Thoros asked.

"Old feud," said Tormund with a laugh. "You southerners take those things too far."

"As do our hardheaded fools north of the Wall as well," Val said with scorn and Tormund agreed and laughed some more.

Thoros still looked uncertain about what they meant so Ned explain. "Pyke is from the Iron Islands. Ser Denys is a Mallister from Seagard. Ironmen have raided his people's lands for centuries."

Thoros nodded in understanding. "So they never had any love for each other. But they are both brothers of the Watch now."

"Old feuds die hard," Mance said. "Even for those on the same side in a war."

"If Cotter Pyke wins, he will let you rot right here," Ned told Mance.

"Then he best not win," Tormund said with vigor.

"We have no say in the vote," Robb told him.

"Get Jon Snow to withdraw!" Val almost shouted.

"Aye," said Mance. "Then have those who support Jon support Ser Denys. I served under him for many years at the Shadow Tower. He is more easy to convince to see things how they should be. Lord Stark, you could convince him."

"How?" Ned asked.

"Tell him for every man, woman, and child of the free folk who die up here, a wight with blue eyes will rise in their place and come at his precious Wall."

"He knows that already," Robb told him.

"They are all fools," Val said in anger.

"I will talk to Ser Denys again," Ned promised. "I will make sure he sees the truth of this."

"And make sure he wins…or Jon Snow wins," Mance said and that concluded their talks for there was nothing more to be said, and it would soon be night again. Val and Tormund went to see to the wildlings needs while Thoros and Robb went off to see to their men and defenses. Ned lingered and talked with Mance alone. He could see the wildling leader was trying to hide his pain, both in his body and in his heart.

"She was a fine lass," Ned said to him.

"Aye," Mance answered heavily. "Too young and beautiful and proud to die that way. The boy…I…know not what to do."

"Your first?"

"Aye."

New knew what that was like. The first time he became a father he was far away. Robb was born at Riverrun and Ned had not gotten news of his birth until long after, when he was heading back north, with Jon. Unlike for Robb, he had been there for Jon's birth and had made a promise to his mother that had he kept for over sixteen years now.

As he looked at Mance he wondered if he was already beginning to hate the child who took his woman away from him. He knew where that hatred led. He only had to think on the other person he knew who had killed his mother in the birthing bed. Tyrion Lannister's mother died as he was born, and Ned had heard stories over the years that his father and sister blamed him for her death and hated him for it.

He knew only one thing to say to Mance that could comfort him, and prevent such a thing from happening if they lived through all of this. "Never blame the boy. It is not him who took her, but the gods."

"Aye…cruel as they are at times. No, I know he is not to blame."

After a moment of silence Ned rose from the tent floor. "I must get back to the castle."

"We could use your sword Ice again if the Others come tonight," Mance said.

Ice was strapped across Ned's back, the great sword too long to hang at his side. It had been the talk of many of the wildlings and his own men Ned knew. They had seen him slicing wights with ease, their bodies soon after burning and they did not rise again after Ice cut them. Longclaw had also done such deeds, and Robb now held it again for his visit to the wildling camp.

"I am but one man," Ned told Mance. "I'd best serve our cause convincing the Watch to hurry their vote along."

Mance reluctantly agreed and then Ned left him, promising to be back in the morning.

Outside the wildlings were getting busy for the coming night, preparing their wooden barriers, their torches and flaming arrows, gathering piles of wood to make their fires burn high and bright. Ned had secured some more oil for them but the supplies he had brought from Winterfell were running low and the Watch so far refused to share any supplies with the wildlings.

Thoros said he would stay the night to command the northern men and Ned had to almost drag Robb back to the Wall so intent he was on staying as well. Ned told him neither of them was to stay another night here. He could just imagine what Catelyn would say if she knew he and Robb had been in the thick of the fighting. After saying goodbye to Thoros, they started back with Grey Wind loping in the snow by their sides.

"A leader should stay with his men," Robb complained as they rode their horses back to the Wall as the sun set in the west. Their breath came out in puffs of frosty air in the cold. "You always told me that, Father."

"Aye, I did. But those men have a leader, Thoros. And you have many more men at the castle who need you. And a wife and soon a child at Winterfell. Do not be so hasty to put yourself in harm's way. You have proven you are a battle leader more than enough now."

"Some of those men left wives and children behind at Winterfell as well," Robb retorted.

Ned knew he was right, but he had lost him once and did not dare risk that again. Thoros had saved Dondarrion many times. Could he do the same for Robb? Ned did not want to find out.

"You are my son and heir. You are not the same as those other men," he said and knew right away it was a weak argument. "Let us speak no more on this."

They rode in silence and walked though the tunnel under the Wall leading their horses in silence. Why was Ned getting morose now? He had fought in the mud at Moat Cailin with Robb at his side and had sent him to fight the ironmen at Winterfell. Robb had captured Jamie Lannister and had fooled the great Tywin Lannister. But it was different now. Yet he could not put his finger on why.

And then he suddenly knew why he was feeling this way. As they came out of the tunnel and saw the King's Tower of Castle Black, he remembered many things, things he had tried to suppress for a long time. Dead friends and enemies in a field. A tower and the blood of a woman dying in childbirth. A child born who would have no mother, like Dalla and Mance's babe. He was thinking on Jon, he knew now, not Robb. He was thinking on a young boy with no mother to love him. Seeing Dalla die brought up all those old memories…the Tower of Joy…the battle…the dead… Howland Reed slaying Ser Arthur Dayne as his sword was poised to kill Ned…and then his sister, Lyanna, dying. The blood. The promise. The baby boy she held in her arms for a few brief moments before her eyes closed forever.

He turned to Robb. "I am sorry, my son."

The hard look Robb had in his eyes softened. "I…aye, Father."

"You are right. You are a leader, you should fight with the men. Tomorrow we will both lead our men…north of the Wall."

Robb stared at him. "How many?"

"Most. But first I must have words with Jon. And then Maester Aemon. I must know where these Others are. Where do they go in the day? Where do they hide? Do they sleep, do they eat? What are they?"

"Devils with blue eyes," Robb answered.

"Aye, that they are my son. You go see to the men. Talk to the Greatjon and Steelshanks. Tell them to pick five hundred good men and plenty of supplies. They are rested enough now. Tomorrow we will lead them to the wildling camp. And we will stay until the Watch decides."

"What will we do if they refuse to let the wildlings south?"

"The true enemy is still out there, Robb. We will stay and fight...until the Others are defeated. If they don't come at us…maybe we can find them."

Robb went off to carry out his father's orders while Ned took their horses to the stables. A squire of Winterfell took the horses and Ned went off to the makeshift dining hall that had been set up for the men of the North. He broke bread with some of his men and talked to them and listened to their complaints and jests and felt better for it after. As he was about to leave to go find Jon he spotted Sam Tarly in the kitchens, gathering some food in a basket, no doubt for the girl Gilly.

"Sam, have you seen Jon?" he asked after saying hello.

"Yes, my lord. I think he is in his room behind the armory."

Ned looked around and saw there were no other men of the Watch about. "Sam…the voting. What say the men?"

Sam looked about a bit and then whispered. "Ser Alliser is telling those who support him to put their votes to Cotter Pyke."

"Ser Denys has no chance then."

Sam shook his head and his face was downcast. "Maybe not."

"Sam…you think the wildlings should come south?"

"Yes, my lord," he said right away, a fierce light in his eyes Ned had never seen in the man who called himself craven. "They're people like us. Gilly and…" But he stopped and cast his eyes down, a look of shame now on his cheeks.

"You care for the girl and her babe, there is no shame in that Sam Tarly."

"I…I do. But it matters not my lord. Not now."

That puzzled Ned. "Why? What has happened?"

"Cotter Pyke is saying she and her babe should go back with her own kind. Ser Alliser agrees and Ser Denys said the same. They say she is a woman and the Watch has no women and she is a distraction."

Ned knew they were right, but Sam was not happy about it at all. "I am sorry, Sam."

"My lord…is there anything you can do for her?"

Ned was about to shake his head no when he did have a thought. "Mance Rayder's woman…Dalla…she died."

"Maester Aemon told me."

"Her babe is alive, but he has no mother."

Sam seemed confused at first. "You mean…Gilly should marry Mance Rayder?"

"No. I mean…she is…I mean…she has milk. For her babe. Maybe enough for two."

Sam blushed. "Yes. I think so. You mean…she will live with Mance?"

"Aye. He will protect her, see she and her babe are treated well…if she is forced to go back."

"Yes, that would be better. If she must go." Sam answered. Then his eyes lit up again. "Jon wouldn't make her go."

"Jon is not commander."

"He might win," Sam said hopefully.

"Sam…Jon should throw his support behind Ser Denys."

Sam did not like that idea. "But…"

"Ser Denys is a reasonable man. He will permit the wildlings to come south."

"Maybe, my lord."

"How can we see that he wins?"

"Jon must support him," Sam agreed. "Yes, we must speak with Jon."

They found him in the armory's back room. As Ned and Sam walked through the cold smithy to the back room Ned thought on his letter to Cat asking for Gendry to come and be their armorer. She might have gotten it by now, if the ravens flew true. Then he also felt Arya would be sad and maybe even mad at him. Then…gods, it was Arya's name day soon. He had forgotten with all that was happening. He hoped she liked the horse they picked for her.

Jon was sitting at his table looking at a book, with Ghost curled up on the floor by the warm hearth. He stood as they entered and Ned told him to sit as they sat with him, Ned in the second chair and Sam on the edge of the bed. They quickly explained all they wanted.

"Over a day ago you convinced me to enter my name and now you want me to withdraw and support Ser Denys?" Jon asked in an incredulous tone.

"Aye, that's the crux of it," Ned told him.

"No," Jon said with a stubborn look in his eyes. "Sorry, Father, but Ser Denys will bend to the will of the Watch and not permit the free folk south. Most still want Mance dead and the wildlings as well. Convince Ser Denys to support me. Cotter Pyke as well and then there will be no doubt."

Sam's face fell. "They will never agree to join together to support you."

Jon nodded. "Maybe you are right, Sam. But we cannot defeat the Others when we are not united."

Only now did Ned notice the book Jon was reading, _Legends of the Age of Heroes. _It was an old book, and contained all the tales about the Age of Heroes, when the Others had first come. Ned had read it at Winterfell when he was a boy, studying and learning in a stuffy room when he only wanted to be in the yard bashing blunted swords with his brothers.

"What has it told you?" he asked, nodding to the book.

"Nothing we don't already know."

"Maybe Maester Aemon has learned more." He stood to go. "Jon…think on what I said. We must have a leader of the Watch, sooner than later. Later might be too late."

Jon had a grim look on his face. "Aye, Father. But we need a leader who will make the right decisions."

"Then if it is not Ser Denys, it best be you."

He left Sam and Jon to talk. Outside it was colder and the sky was now dark. He listened carefully and heard no horns or sounds of battle and relaxed his tense body. He was making his way to Maester Aemon's quarters when out of a tower came Cotter Pyke and several of his men from Eastwatch.

"Lord Stark," said Pyke. "I would have words with you."

Even in the light of the torches his men carried Ned could see the scars the pox had left on Pyke's face. His beard did much to hide them but still they were there. He was a lean hard man as you had to be to lead a great castle of the Watch. He came from humble origins, being a bastard of the Iron Islands. He spoke in a rough and gruff manner and seemed not to care for a man's titles or birth. He was iron born and they took what they wanted. Some day Ned hoped to hear the tale of how Pyke came to be in the Night's Watch.

"Aye," he said. "Let us get out of the cold."

Pyke and his men led the way to the Watch's dining hall. Inside many men off duty were lingering over cups of ale and mulled wine. They turned their heads as Pyke and Ned and the others entered. Ned and Pyke sat alone and cups of ale were brought and Pyke got right down to it.

"Tell your bastard to withdraw his name," Pyke said strongly.

Ned ignored the insult to Jon. "I've already told him. He refused."

Pyke snorted. "Stubborn fool. He is sixteen and a green boy, barely a year in the Watch. What makes him think he can lead?"

"Commander Mormont thought he had it in him."

"Do you?" Pyke asked with an intent look.

"Aye…and so do a lot of the men here. You know what he did to defend the castle and the Wall."

"Aye, he did his duty. But being commander means more than that. You know that well enough, Lord Stark. Leaders must make hard choices. He is too young, has not enough experience."

"If he is chosen he will have good men to advise him."

"It is not his time," Pyke said strongly.

"Why do you want it?" Ned asked. "For the glory?"

Pyke laughed loud and long and many looked their way. "Glory? What glory? Leading the dregs of the kingdoms against impossible odds? Aye, there might be glory in that. But no man south of the Wall will ever know it and care little if they did. There is no glory for us. Only a fiery funeral pyre if we are lucky. I want it because I have been here long enough to know what needs to be done."

"So has Ser Denys."

Pyke snorted. "He is too soft. He will do as you want and shame the Watch and bring us all to ruin. What will King Stannis say when he hears the Watch let the wildlings through the Wall?"

"He will say you did what was needed to keep the realm safe."

"How's that now?"

"You know what will become of the wildlings if the Others kill them all."

Pyke said nothing for moment and then took a long drink of ale. "Aye," he finally said. "Maybe…maybe it's better if they come south. But we take their weapons. All of them. And Mance must die."

He drained his ale and stood and left. Ned finally found his way to Maester Aemon's quarters. A man of the Watch was sitting there at the table as Maester Aemon and his assistant Clydas bandaged a cut on his arm. As soon as he was gone Maester Aemon dismissed Clydas and Ned sat with the maester at his table. Ned and he talked long on the Others and the maester had no new information. Then they talked about the selection of a new commander and Maester Aemon agreed that either Ser Denys or Jon would be the better choice but he had no power to sway the men of the Watch. He added that Cotter Pyke was too stubborn to support Jon and hated Ser Denys too much to support him.

"We must vote again on the morrow," Maester Aemon said. "If Jon will not withdraw his name I fear the deadlock will continue."

Ned sighed. "And more people will die."

"Yes," Maester Aemon agreed. "The Others…all my life on the Wall I have heard of them. Most men dismissed them as stories to scare little children. Now they are here. Was one truly there? In the tent?"

Ned knew why he asked. He had been just feet away from an Other when Sam and Ned had killed it yet the blind maester could not see it. "Aye, it was here. It seemed made of ice and snow and the cold. Sam and I stabbed it and it just melted away."

"Melted away…how interesting. Sam and Grenn reported the same when Sam killed the Other on the retreat. That is something the books never said. We must record all of this."

"Aye…speaking of books, Jon was reading a book about the old legends."

"Yes, he asked me for it. I thought it might help him understand what we face...if he becomes commander."

"I read that book when I was a boy. Those are just legends."

"Some legends may be coming true, Lord Stark. Has Cotter Pyke told you the news of the east?"

"No," Ned answered, now very curious. "What news?"

"A ship from Pentos pulled into Eastwatch before he marched here. The crew told the Night's Watch men many things. But most importantly they said that a beautiful young princess with silver hair and purple eyes is setting Slaver's Bay on fire."

Ned had a feeling he knew who that meant. "Daenerys Targaryen?"

"Yes…and there is more. The same stories claim she has three dragons…three living dragons."

Ned made a scoffing sound. "I will believe it when I see it."

Aemon made a soft chuckle. "Lord Stark, when you see a dragon, it may be the last thing you ever see. But do not be so hasty to dismiss these tales. The sailors said more than one ship coming from the east has the same tale. Princess Daenerys marches with an army of Unsullied and…"

"How did she get Unsullied?" Ned interrupted him. "What happened to her Dothraki?" While he was at Harrenhal he had heard that Viserys was dead, and later they heard that Khal Drogo had died as well.

"They abandoned her when the Khal died and began to fight among themselves," Aemon told him. "She fled east, where and how she survived I know not. Now she has taken an army of Unsullied and is ravaging Slaver's Bay."

"Maybe that is a good thing," Ned said. He hated slavery and slavers. He had condemned Jorah Mormont for such a crime but the coward had fled before he could be brought to justice.

"Many would agree. But not Volantis or the other free cities, except Braavos, of course. They depend much on the slave trade. They mean to go to war with Daenerys."

"Then let them deal with her. If she tries to come back to Westeros she will be just one more enemy to fight." Will it never end, he wanted to add, but did not.

"She is not our enemy, Lord Stark."

"I know she is of your blood, maester, but she and her brother have been claiming the Iron Throne since they were children. Robert tried to kill them and failed. If she comes back here, dragons or not, she will seek revenge on all those who overthrew her family."

"Maybe," said Aemon Targaryen. "But…these tales…of dragons…and the princess…I think she is a legend come to life. A prophecy born of smoke and salt."

"You are speaking in riddles, maester."

"Yes, forgive me. I sometimes forget that at my age I know more than most men," Aemon said in a genial manner. "To begin with, there is an old prophecy, some say a thousand years old, some say more. It tells of the prince who was promised, a hero who will be born at a time when a great evil arises again."

"The Others," Ned said in a bare whisper.

"Yes, it seems so. Now this prince was supposed to be born of smoke and salt. For years, Rhaegar Targaryen believe it was him, that he was the hero. But he died on the Trident. Now I am wondering if it was not a prince…but a princess."

"Daenerys?"

"Yes."

Ned had a sudden unsettling thought. "Why did Rhaegar believe he was the prince who was promised?"

"The prophecy seemed to indicate the price who was promised would be born of the Targaryen line. Rhaegar was born the same day fires destroyed the palace at Summerhall and killed my brother Egg and many of our kin. So he believed he was born of smoke. He and I never met, but we corresponded on these questions several times. Later he wrote that he now believed it was his son Aegon who was meant to be the prince who was promised. But Aegon is dead as well."

Ned gulped and felt it hard to breath and knew why. "And Rhaegar had no other children?" he asked, his voice so quiet he was surprised Aemon heard him.

"No…none that we know of."

"No bastards?"

"No…I think not. So, that leaves his sister, Daenerys. She was born on Dragonstone in the worst storm in a century the stories say. She is called Stormborn. Born amidst the salt of the oceans and the smoke of Dragonstone, a volcanic island. Now she has dragons. Could she be the princess that was promised?"

Ned shrugged, wanting to end this conversation before he said too much. He was starting to breath normally again. "I know not, Maester. I only know that some legends are walking in the forests north of here and we still have not found a way to defeat them."

"I told you all I can. We know not where they live, or what they do when not attacking, or if they eat, or how they turn dead men into wights. Nothing."

"Aye," Ned said heavily. He stood to leave and had turned when Aemon spoke and Ned's heart froze.

"Why do you think Rhaegar had a bastard son?"

Ned felt as if time stood still. He turned back and the old maester's cloudy, milky blind eyes seemed to be boring right into him. "It is nothing. I only wondered. The prophecy said it was a prince, not a princess."

"True. But all prophecies should not be taken literally. For what I known of them in my time at the Citadel, some prophecies have no more substance than a cloud in the sky. One strong wind may blow them all to pieces."

Ned let out his breath and grinned. "Then I shall not lose any sleep over this one. Worries enough I have without adding more."

"Yes, Lord Stark. Sleep well."

He did sleep well that night for no new attacks came. The morning found him back in the dining hall with his men and after breaking their fast Ned led Robb and the Greatjon north of the wall with five hundred men and many supplies. Mance Rayder welcomed them and they fit into the line of barricades to the left of where Thoros and the other northmen were already placed. As they set up tents and began preparing defenses, Rattleshirt and some of his men went by. He gave Ned one look but said nothing and continued on his way.

"How fare things with him?" Ned asked Mance.

"He is waiting for me to die. If I don't he will try to kill me himself."

He seemed so calm about it, it surprised Ned. "Maybe you should just kill him and get it done with."

"It may come to that."

They worked some more, and talked and then came back to Mance's tent for a drink of ale. Inside was a wet nurse and the baby boy so they stepped outside with their cups so they would not disturb her.

"I had them brought here after talking with you," Mance said to him. He sighed heavily. "She is gone, truly gone."

"Aye."

They said nothing for a long few moments. Then Mance spoke again.

"Her sister has eyes for your son."

"Val? For Jon?" Ned asked in surprise.

"No…Robb."

"Does she know he is wed and his wife is with child?"

"She knows. She doesn't care."

Ned laughed and so did Mance and it was good to see a smile on his face. "I best tell him to be careful," Ned said. "She is too beautiful for any man to ignore for long."

"Aye, that she is," agreed Mance.

Later Ned returned to Castle Black to find out once more the Night's Watch failed to elect a leader.

And so it went for the next ten days. The weather turned sour and it snowed a lot and later it grew colder but still the Others did not come. A few more men trickled in on the Kingsroad and letters arrived from the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch to say more men of the North had arrived at each castle. Lady Mormont learned of her brother's death and sent word asking for his bones, but Ned knew they more than likely would never be able to recover his body.

On the tenth day in the late afternoon a raven arrived from Winterfell. "It's from your mother," Ned told Robb after he had read it. They were in Ned's quarters in the King's Tower, with the Greatjon and Steelshanks, talking over plans to send out patrols to find the Others, when Sam had brought them the raven scroll.

Robb quickly read the letter, and Ned knew he smiled because he read how Roslin was doing well. "She says Gendry is coming," he said when he finished.

"The lad with the shield shell?" the Greatjon asked.

"Aye," said Robb. "I bet Arya was mad."

Ned gave him a sharp look and he got the message and said nothing else. They then turned back to the matter at hand. After they made plans to send out limited patrols, and only in daytime, the men went off to carry out his orders and Ned went to see Jon. He was at the top of the Wall, he was told, and so he took the winch cage up.

Ned had seen little of Jon the last few days. He was always on duty or voting or talking to men, trying to convince them to vote for him. Sam also seemed distracted and once Ned had seen him deep in conversation with Ser Denys by the stables.

Jon was standing by a brazier warming his hands with his friend Grenn and Pyp when Ned found him. The other men walked away after dipping their heads to him and Jon and Ned were soon alone.

"There has been word from Winterfell," he said and then told him all the news, including about Gendry coming to the Wall.

"She gave him the horse?" Jon asked with disbelief after Ned finished the tale.

"Aye, so Lady Stark wrote," Ned answered. "He needed it more than she did."

"But it was her present. Robb told me he even had a saddle made for her."

"It was a gift," Ned answered. "She did as she wanted with it."

Jon was silent for a minute and then Ned could see something was bothering him. "Tell me, lad, what troubles you? Is it the voting?"

"No…it's…this boy Gendry. He is like me. Yet he comes to Winterfell, and is treated like one of you. And Robb says he may even be wed to Arya some day."

"That is not decided yet. She is betrothed to another."

Jon snorted. "Robb says you will never allow her to marry a Frey."

"Aye…I said that. She loves him, Jon. To see her when she is with him, you would understand."

"She is only ten!"

"Eleven now."

"Eleven, ten, what is the difference, she is too young!"

"Aye, she is. There is no wedding tomorrow, so be calm. Why does this vex you so?"

Jon just stared at him and Ned could see the anger in his eyes. "All my life at Winterfell I was made to feel like I did not belong. Even Theon Greyjoy was treated better than me. And you know what he is now! He…"

"That is not true, Jon!"

"Maybe not," Jon admitted. "And I know you and many others were kind. But Lady Stark hates me and treated me worse than a dog. And now she is letting another bastard into your lives? Why him? Why not me?"

He was fighting to control his emotions and his voice was almost breaking. Ned felt bad for him, but did not want to talk about this here. "Jon," he said in a low voice so the men nearby could not hear. "This is not the time or place to talk on this."

"When is it the time, Father? I have so many questions. When I left for the Wall you promised to tell me some day. When is the time if not now?"

Never, he wanted to say. But he had to tell him something. "We will talk but not here. As for this new boy, Gendry, Lady Stark disliked him at first. Then he saved Arya, he helped us a lot. He is a good lad, you will see."

"And I am not?"

"I did not say that," Ned said quickly and now he started to get mad. "This petulance is unbecoming, lad. You…"

"Why do you never call me 'son'?" Jon interrupted. "Always 'lad'. Yet you always call Bran and Rickon and Robb son. Why not me?"

Because you are not my son, Ned wanted to say, but could not. "I will not argue with you here," Ned told him again, his anger still on him. "When your duty is done come to my quarters and speak to me in a proper manner. You are man, not a child. Act like one."

With that he turned on his heel and walked away and took the winch cage down to Castle Black. Gods! he thought as he descended. His anger began to cool and he knew he was at a crossroads in his relations with Jon. What am I to tell the boy…man…now? He needed advice. He knew only one place he could get it, one man who would understand and keep his secret.

But as Ned arrived at Maester Aemon's quarters he began to have doubts. He was about to make up some fiction for his visit, but before Ned could even broach any subject Maester Aemon beat him to it. "I have been thinking on our last discussion, Lord Stark," Aemon began after Clydas served them mulled wine and left.

"Aye?" Ned said as he sipped his wine, and found it's warmth comforting after being on the frigid Wall.

"Yes. Rhaegar and his children. Could he have had a bastard? The answer I think is…yes, he could have."

Ned kept his surprise in check. "Why do you think so?" he asked calmly.

"Rhaegar was a handsome man I have been told, though I never met him myself. I heard many a woman swooned over him. Maybe even your sister."

Now Ned felt his chest tighten. "She was kidnapped."

"Yes…that is what the stories say. Are they true?"

Ned felt himself on the edge of an abyss. He could step back and end this and go to the grave with his secret. Or he could jump. On the verge of stepping back, something inside him said, no, it is time, before we are all dead, like I almost was in King's Landing and many times since. So he jumped.

"No," he said quietly.

"Ah," said Maester Aemon with a sigh. "I never believed it was so."

"Why not?"

"All I have learned of Rhaegar over the years tells me he would not do such a thing. He may have been Robert's and your enemy, but he was not a cruel man. His father was, without a doubt, as you above all know. A madness is in my family, Lord Stark. But it does not affect all. So…she went willingly?"

Ned took a deep breath and spoke. "Aye. She loved him. And he her, I believe."

"He named her the beauty of the tournament at Harrenhal."

"Aye, he did. That's where they first met."

"Robert never knew she went willingly? That she loved Rhaegar?"

"No. It would have killed him before the boar ever did."

"Ah, a true friend you are. You let him keep his memories of her."

"He would never have understood," Ned answered. "I did not know myself until Rhaegar was dead and the war almost over."

"Who else knows?"

"No one," he lied. Howland Reed knew but Ned would not drag him into this.

"And how did you find out?"

"Lyanna told me. Before she died."

"How did she die?"

Now he was truly falling into the abyss and there was no turning back. At the thought of his sister lying in that bed with the blood everywhere Ned's emotions came up and he let out a small sigh of anguish. "In childbirth," he gasped, the words coming out in a strangled voice. "It was a boy."

"Gods," said Aemon Targaryen in a bare whisper and Ned knew he knew then. "He does not know?"

"No."

"Your wife? No one?"

"Never."

"You must tell him."

"I have tried. So many times," Ned said in all honestly. "When Robert lived I could not risk it. He swore to kill all of your family. If he knew a son of his enemy lived he would have killed him. I could not allow that. I would have killed Robert first."

"You love the boy."

"Aye. He is Lyanna's son. He is my blood if not my seed."

Aemon sighed heavily. "And now I know he is my blood as well."

A heavy silence fell between the two men, the aged maester and the much younger lord.

Finally Ned asked the dreaded question. "What should I do?"

"You must tell him," came the swift reply. "He will only believe it if it comes from you."

"He will hate me."

"Perhaps…at first."

"I have lived with it for sixteen years. Maybe I can stand another sixteen."

"We all may not have that long," Aemon said. "I know I do not, at my age. If he is the prince that was promised, much will depend on him."

Ned shook his head in disbelief. "You are talking of legends and prophecies again."

"With the Others walking the world again, Lord Stark, it is the time of legend and prophecies."

Ned then made a decision. But before he could say anything a knock came to the door. It was Clydas.

"Maester, the men are calling for another vote."

"This is most unusual," Maester Aemon said. "We have voted once today."

"It's Cotter Pyke, maester…and Ser Denys. They have called for it…together."

Maester Aemon sighed. "Then so be it. Something is afoot. I suppose I must find out what."

He stood with Ned's help and then Clydas helped lead him from the room. As he was leaving Aemon spoke once more to Ned. "You must do what you think best, Lord Stark. The decision is yours."

"As it has always been. I thank you for your advice."

As Ned returned to his quarters it was getting dark out. He was intending to write a reply to Cat's letter but as he sat at the small table and lit a candle he could not help but mull over all he had talked about with Maester Aemon. He had finally told someone his great secret, and it felt as if some great weight was lifted from his chest. Yet at the same time he felt as if he was no longer in control, that by confessing the truth he had somehow let loose a force that he would not be able to keep in check, and that Jon would find out. But maybe Aemon was right. Maybe it was time Jon knew the truth.

As he dipped his quill in the ink and began to write, there was a knock at his door. It was Steelshanks Walton. "My lord, the men of the Watch want to have words with you."

Ned followed him to the main dining hall of the Watch. "What have you heard?"

"Nothing, my lord," Steelshanks said as they crossed the practice yard. "They are all in there, except those on duty."

Ned and Walton entered the room and Ned saw Robb and the Greatjon already present. Before Ned could ask anything Robb put on a big grin. "It's Jon! He's done it!"

Ned could now see Jon was shaking Cotter Pyke's hand. "You let me down bastard," Pyke was saying with a grim look. "I'll throw you off the Wall myself."

"Aye," said Jon, who had a stunned look on his face.

Ser Denys was stepping up to him next. "I hoped it would be me, but the gods have decided in your favor…Lord Commander." Sam was there looking like a proud father and so were Grenn and Pyp and the rest of Jon's friends. The Old Bear's bird was sitting on a table next to the big iron kettle where the voting counters were placed. It cried "_Snow_!" Ser Alliser Thorne was standing nearby and looked like he had swallowed curdled milk.

But Jon only had eyes for Ned and Robb now. Ned gave him a big smile and stepped up to him and clapped him on his back, as did Robb and the Greatjon. "Well done," they told him and Jon beamed with pride.

"What orders…Lord Commander?" Thorne asked, with an insolent cast to his tone.

Jon spoke in a strong loud voice to all the men. "Nothing as changed. Do your duties as you have always done them." Many man began to move to the doors to return to their duties.

"And what of your friends?" Thorne asked.

Jon stared at him. "If you mean the free folk…it is time we discussed them."

As the men were leaving Maester Aemon took Jon aside and was talking to him quietly and Jon kept nodding his head. Soon only Ned, Robb, the Greatjon, Walton, the maester, Clydas, Bowen Marsh, Jon, Thorne, Pyke, and Ser Denys remained.

"First," Jon said as they settled around a table. "I thank you for your support, Ser Denys, Cotter Pyke. Soon you must return to your castles and make sure they are ready in case the Others come at you there."

Ser Denys and Pyke swiftly agreed but Pyke echoed Thorne's question. "What of Mance Rayder and the wildlings?"

"They will come south," Jon said in a decisive tone.

"Mance should die," Thorne growled.

"If he dies then they will fall apart," Ned reminded them.

"He broke his oaths," Pyke said with an edge of anger in his tone. "He must be punished."

"He is the only one that can hold them together," Maester Aemon said. "If we kill him, then all is for naught."

Ned was about to speak but Jon beat him to it. "Mance Rayder does not die." His tone was strong and the words said in a way that brooked no arguments.

Ned watched Thorne and Pyke to see how they would react. They had to respect Jon's commands or all this was nothing more than a mummer's farce. Pyke had discipline instilled in him from his long years on the Wall and so said nothing, but the look on his face said he disagreed. Thorne was another matter, a man who hated his commander, and that was not good. He was about to counter Jon when Bowen Marsh suddenly spoke up.

"Then he must be a prisoner," Bowen Marsh said. "He must be tried and punished in some way."

"Folly," Ned said to them all. "You may as well kill him and be done with it. And if you do that I will march south with my men."

"You have threatened that already, Lord Stark," Thorne reminded him. "Yet you are still here. Would you abandon your own son in his time of need?"

"I will not sacrifice the good men of the North if you cannot see reason," Ned told him and the others. "Every wildling that dies without being burned turns into a wight. We all know this to be true now."

"Yes," said Ser Denys. "I agree with Lord Stark and the Lord Commander. Mance Rayder must live and he must lead his people. We need them."

"Deserters must die!" Pyke snarled across the table at him. "Are you going to piss on thousands of years of tradition?"

"No," retorted Ser Denys, an edge of anger in his tone. "I am going to follow the orders of my Lord Commander! That is tradition as well, Pyke. Without someone to give orders we will sit here and argue till the Others climb the wall and kill us dead at this table. Lord Commander Snow gave his orders. The wildlings come south with Mance as their leader."

Pyke seethed and so did Thorne. "You will rue this day, Ser Denys," Thorne advised. He stood and left without another word.

Pyke was not so hasty. "Aye, a Lord Commander's orders we must follow, even if they are idiotic." He turned to Jon. "You best write to King Stannis, Lord Commander. He will want to know you are giving away the Gift to our enemies."

"Not our enemies anymore," Jon told him. "Will you obey my orders? Or do I need find a new commander for Eastwatch?

Pyke hesitated and then gave a short nod of his head and Ned knew he had accepted Jon as leader. Then Pyke asked the next important question. "When do they come?"

"Tomorrow," Jon said. He looked to Ned. "Lord Stark, will your men form a rear guard with the free folk men until the woman, children and old ones are through the Wall?"

"Aye, we can do that…Lord Commander," Ned told him.

Bowen Marsh, the Lord Steward of the Night's Watch, then raised a sticky question. "How will we feed so many?"

"They have some supplies," Ned told him.

Maester Aemon spoke up. "It is too late for another harvest. Perhaps it's best if we let them continue south and they can hunt and fish while there is still time before winter is at its worst."

"Keep the warriors here, let the rest go to the Gift," the Greatjon growled. "I do not want them wandering too far near my lands. Any that does will be soon short a head."

"Not to worry, Lord Umber," Jon told him. "I will see that Mance lets his people know not to harm any folk south of the Wall."

"Aye, you can tell him and he can tell them, but old habits die hard," the Greatjon said. "My people will keep their doors shut and their steel handy."

"If they are properly fed and have shelter there would be no need for raiding," Ned told them.

"Why not ask the King to send supplies?" Robb suggested.

Marsh sighed. "Getting things for the Watch from kings has never been easy."

"Why not get them ourselves?" Jon asked. "We have coin, do we not?"

"Little these days, I am afraid," Maester Aemon said.

"The wildlings have coin," Pyke said. "Let us take it all." He said it with a glint in his eyes, and Ned suspected the iron born blood in him was calling to him, to take what he wanted.

"Wildlings do not use money," Ser Denys said to Pyke as if he was stupid.

"Little you know," Pyke snapped back. "They trade and barter all the time. All their wealth is kept on their bodies, in gold and silver and jade and other precious metals and stones."

Ned knew this to be true, had seen many of the wildlings with gold arm bands, bronze medallions, jade necklaces, and many other precious items.

"Let us make them pay for the right to come south," Bowen Marsh suggested and it was soon agreed on.

Soon after that Jon said he wanted to speak to the men of the Watch alone and Ned and his men left them. Outside Ned quickly asked Robb. "How did he win?"

"I know not," Robb relied. "But Sam will know."

They found Sam in the tower room with Gilly and her babe and Osha. The wildling woman was sitting in a big stuffed chair and held the babe in her arms and was cooing to it when Ned and Robb entered the room. Sam and Gilly were sitting on the bed, close together, but when Ned and Robb came in Sam jumped up and dipped his head.

"Sit, Sam," Ned told him but Sam remained standing.

"Is it true?" Osha asked. "Have the crows picked your son?"

"Aye," Ned said. "Jon Snow is to be next Lord Commander."

"And what of the free folk?" she asked next.

"They will come south…tomorrow."

"Thank the gods," Sam said and then Gilly stood by Sam's side and looked at Ned and Robb.

"Does this mean the fighting is done?"

Ned shook his head. "The Others are still out there."

"Don't worry," Sam said to Gilly, who now looked scared. "Maester Aemon said they cannot get past the Wall."

Ned hoped that was true. He also knew why Gilly was scared. He had heard the tales about her father, Craster, about how he had sacrificed his boys to his gods. His gods were the Others, Ned now knew. Was that where they came from? Raised from human babies to be things of ice and snow?

"Sam…how did Jon win?" Ned finally asked.

Sam grinned a bit. "I convinced Ser Denys that he or Pyke could never win and that Pyke might support Jon to win favor with him. So…Ser Denys told his men to vote for Jon. Then I said the same thing to Pyke, and he told his men to vote for Jon as well. I feared some of their men might not agree or that Ser Denys or Pyke might change their minds. And Thorne and his followers would never vote for Jon."

"A dangerous game you played, Sam Tarly," Ned told him, not unkindly.

"Yes, my lord. But I had nothing to do with what happened next. When they opened the kettle top for the vote, that big raven of Lord Commander Mormont's flew out and cried 'snow' and landed on Jon's shoulder. That convinced the superstitious ones that Jon should be commander. Seeing as most men are superstitious in one way or another...the vote wasn't even close after that."

"A bird in a kettle?" Robb said in surprise. Then he laughed as he looked at Sam in an accusing manner. "It was you. You put it there."

Sam shook his head. "No, my lord. Ser Alliser's men were also shouting that it was me as well, that I put the bird there, but I swear on my sisters' and brother's lives that I did not do it."

"Aye," said Osha. "He speaks true. Sam the Slayer turns as red as a blushing lass when he lies. And how could he make it fly to Jon Snow? It is the gods. They foresaw this and they used the bird as their instrument to chose Jon Snow."

Ned felt a sudden chill in the air as she said this. The gods chose him? Or was it a prophecy coming true? Was Jon the prince that was promised?

Robb was still not totally convinced. "Jon said that bird always said his name and came to him."

"But what was it doing in the kettle?" Osha asked and Robb looked to Sam who shook his head once more.

"It matters not now. Best get some rest," Ned told them. "We have busy days ahead."

He and Robb left and Ned bid his son good night after Robb promised to check on the guards and make sure all was well. Ned went to the King's Tower to his room, planning on finishing the letter to Cat. But it was not to be. When he opened his door, Jon was sitting at his table.

Jon stood right away. "I am here…as a man…to talk on…on many things."

"Aye," Ned said with a weary sigh. "Talking is thirsty work."

He had a bottle of red wine on the table and two cups and poured for them. "Drink," Ned told Jon as he sat opposite him, the only light a candle on the table burning brightly.

Jon sipped his wine but Ned shook his head. "Drink it all and pour yourself another. Before we are done I promise you that you will want more."

Jon tipped his cup back and drank the wine down and then poured another. "I have drunk my wine. Now answer my questions…Lord Stark."

"So that's how it is to be? Very well, Lord Commander Snow. Ask."

"Who is my mother?"

The first question and the boy went to the very heart of the matter. Ned sipped his wine and put his cup down. It was late, very late, and now Ned had no more time, to lie, to hide the truth. Jon was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was not a boy anymore. He was a proven leader of men in battle. He deserved the truth even if he hated Ned for the rest of his life. The way things were going, it might not be that long.

"What have you heard over the years at Winterfell about my sister?" he asked to begin the most difficult conversation of his life so far.

"Lyanna?" Jon said in surprise. "Ah…I know she was wild, that Arya looks a bit like her, that she died…after Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and raped her. And that King Robert loved her."

"Some truths and lies are in that tale. She was wild, aye, that she was. Arya has her look and her wildness, that is true as well. Robert did love her with all his heart." He paused and took another drink before he got to the rest. "But she was not kidnapped. She was not raped. She…she went with Rhaegar…willingly."

Jon took a deep breath and only nodded. "Aye…so…why the lies?"

"To protect Robert from the truth."

"He was your friend. I understand…but…what has all this to do with my mother?"

Now they came to it. "There was a place in the mountains of Dorne called the Tower of Joy."

Jon looked puzzled but went along with the new topic. "I have never heard of it."

"No, you would not have. It no longer exists."

"What happened?'

"I torn it down. I used its stones to raise cairns for some good men who died there."

"When was this?" Jon asked after he drank some more wine.

"Near the end of the rebellion. I…I found Lyanna in that tower. She was guarded by Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Arthur Dayne, and Ser Gerold Hightower. You know who they are?"

Jon nodded. "All members of Mad Aerys' Kingsguard."

"Aye. Maester Luwin taught you well. They were guarding Lyanna for Rhaegar. It was his tower. There was a fight, a terrible fight. I lost five good men…five good friends. Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover, Theo Wulf, Mark Ryswell, and Martyn Cassel."

"Cassel? Jory Cassel's father?"

"Aye, the same. There was one other man with me. Howland Reed. At the end it was just Howland, myself, and Ser Arthur Dayne. He was the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms. But Ser Arthur made a mistake. Howland is small and slender and seems less of a danger to those who do not know him. Ser Arthur did not know him and thought I was the greater danger. So Ser Arthur concentrated his last attack on me. But Howland is the better man than me in a fight. He killed Ser Arthur just as he was about to kill me. Never forget the debt I owe to Howland and his kin, Jon. No matter what happens here, what I tell you, never forget that Winterfell owes much to Howland Reed."

Jon seemed very confused now. "Yes, Father…but all this, what has it to do with my mother?"

He calls me 'Father' still and I am about to shatter his world forever, Ned thought. Why are the gods so cruel? But he had come too far now. "Let me finish the tale, lad."

"Aye."

"So…then we went into the tower. Some servants were there, but they fled at the sight of us, swords in our hands, covered in blood, ours and our enemy's. In the highest room…we found her…with a midwife."

"A midwife?" Jon said in a quiet voice, his eyes wide and staring now.

"Aye…Lyanna was with child and it was her time. But…she was dying. I know not why. The blood was everywhere, the midwife was panicking, and then…a baby was born. A boy."

Jon's breathing got faster and now there were tears in his eyes. "A boy?"

"Aye…a strong healthy boy," Ned told him, tears now in his eyes as well which he wiped away quickly. "She held him for a few moments, spoke some words with me…and then she was gone."

Jon suddenly sobbed aloud and dropped his cup to the floor as he buried his face in his hands. Sobs racked his body and Ned let him be for a few moments.

Finally Jon spoke, his voice cracking with all of his emotions building up inside of him. "She was my mother, wasn't she? I was the boy, wasn't I?"

"Aye," Ned said and there it was, at last, out and done with it. But he felt no burden unleashed. Only anguish for the lost sister he had loved so much. And now came the look he had dreaded for so long.

"Then that means…you are not my father?" Jon asked, his eyes welling up again.

Ned could only nod and then Jon sobbed again and fought to control his tears.

"Who…" he started to ask and then his eyes widened and he finally understood why Ned told him about the Tower of Joy. "No…that's…NO! HOW CAN THAT BE?!"

He was on his feet now, his hands balled in fists of raged and he loomed over Ned, anger burning in his tear filled eyes. "Tell me. Tell me it's not true. Please. Tell me."

Ned felt an overwhelming sadness and could only shake his head. "I cannot tell you that, Jon. It is true. Rhaegar Targaryen is your father. Not me."

Jon glared at him and his face contorted in rage and then...and then all the anger went out of his eyes and anguish replaced rage. He staggered backwards, slumped back in the chair, his chin on his breast, his breathing rapid, the tears streaming down his cheeks. A long silence fell between them. Ned waited, let him be, waited for this man who thought he was his son for sixteen years to come to grips with what he had just been told.

Finally, Jon looked up and spoke one word. "Why?"

Ned knew what he was asking and Ned had the answer ready, had it ready since the day Jon had been born. "I made a promise to your mother. I swore to take you in and raise you as my own and say I was your father. She knew Rhaegar was dead by then. Knew there was no one else. With her dying words she asked me to protect you. From Robert. He swore to kill all of the Targaryens. He tried for years to kill Viserys and Daenerys. Tywin Lannister lay the corpses of Rhaegar and Elia's children at Robert's feet. He would have had you killed as well if he had known, Jon. If anyone had known, Robert would have found out. Somehow, someday. And then I would have had to defy my friend to protect you. Or die trying."

Jon was now staring at him, his face streaked with tear tracks. "Lady Stark…she never knew?"

"No. No one does but Howland Reed. He was there. And Maester Aemon…he figured out most of it, just today."

"You told Maester Aemon!" Jon almost shouted.

"I…I needed his advice. I…I have struggled with this secret for a long time, Jon. He is old and wise…and he is your blood."

Jon shook his head. "No…you are my blood. Robb and Arya and Sansa. Bran and Rickon!"

"Aye, us as well. We will always be your blood."

Jon let out a small sob again. "But not my father. Not my brothers and sisters."

"No," Ned said quietly, and it almost torn him in two to say it. "But they need never know if you wish them not to."

Jon looked lost. "I know not what to do. I am…I know not. It was...it was all lies."

"I am sorry, Jon. If I could have done it any other way, I would have."

"I should hate you," Jon said with a burning intensity.

Ned nodded. "Aye. You should." He had been prepared for this but it still did not make it hurt any less to see Jon look at him with such loathing.

And then the burning intensity was gone as his eyes softened. "You have been the only father I have ever known. I…I cannot hate you for saving me…for protecting me…for loving me."

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell broke down at that moment, and cried out as he stood and opened his arms and Jon came at him and they hugged and sobbed. They held each other for a long moment and then Ned stood back and looked at him. "You have always had her look."

Jon's eyes filled with tears again. "I wish I had known her."

"Aye, you would have made her happy. She told me once she always wanted children."

Now Jon's face took on a twisted cast, as if he realized something horrible. "Did I…she died having me?"

"NO!" Ned said fiercely as he clasped Jon's shoulders in both his hands. "Do not think on that! The gods took her, not you!"

Jon nodded but Ned still thought maybe he did not quite accept it yet. They sat again and Jon picked up his wine cup and placed it on the table. Then he asked one more question. "Will you tell Lady Stark?"

Ah, another issue he did not want to face. "No. I fear she would not forgive me for keeping this secret."

Now he was mad again. "All those years…she…if she had known…"

"She would have said something to someone and they would have told Robert. I could not risk it."

"I want you to tell her!" he said fiercely. "I want you to tell the whole realm!"

"Jon…we cannot do that! You are half Targaryen, the blood of the dead prince. If Stannis Baratheon knows this, he will see you dead!"

That staggered Jon. "Why? I am no threat to his throne. I am a man of the Night's Watch. And I am still a bastard. I cannot inherit anything. Not Winterfell nor the Iron Throne."

"Aye, that may be so. But he is no fool. He knows others will try to use you as they are using Daenerys to win back the west. We must not…"

But the last words did not get out of his mouth. A sudden noise came to their ears. The noise of a horn blast. They waited, and then a second one came. And then a third. The time for family matters was over the two men of the North knew as they got up from their chairs. The time for battle was on them once more.

"I must see to the men on the Wall," Jon said.

"Aye, and I to our men north of it," answered Ned as he strapped on Ice and his other weapons.

"Be safe…Lord Stark."

He was not Jon's father and now Jon knew it. So be it. "You as well…Lord Commander."

And so the two commanders went out into the cold and snow of the North to do battle once more with their mythical enemies. As Ned descended the tower stairs behind Jon he felt no sense of relief, no joy that the difficult task was done and Jon had taken it much better than he had expected. Perhaps he was still in shock and the real anger would come later when he had time to think on it all. And there was still much that was secret. Ned still thought it a foolish notion that Jon was part of some prophecy. But he also wondered on Osha's words. The gods chose Jon to be leader. Maybe there was something to that. Then as he emerged from the tower into the hustle and bustle of the castle with men getting ready for battle, Ned Stark cleared his head of such thoughts and prepared once more to go into the maelstrom.


	14. Chapter 14 Cersei

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 14 Cersei**

Cersei Lannister seethed in anger at how her brother Tyrion mocked their family's legacy once more. He was drunk as usual, and stood on the long table, at its head, golden wine cup in hand, sloshing its contents as he regaled the wedding guests with the tale of how Bronn – no, Lord Bronn Towers, it was now – with how the new lord had saved him in the Vale.

"You know," Tyrion said to Bronn as he finished the tale, slurring his words. "If you go back to the Vale and kill that cunt Lysa Arryn for me, I think I might convince our little King to make you lord of that pile of stones she lives in once the war is over. What do you say to that…Lord Bronn of the Vale?"

"Be glad to do it, my lord," Bronn shouted, drunk if not drunker than Tyrion. "But first I need to bed my new wife." Tyrion laughed loud and Bronn laughed and so did all the wedding guests and even Bronn's new little wife, sitting on his right side, though she did turn a bit red. She was named Cecilya, and was a comely little thing, brown of hair and eye, with a small upturned little nose, no more than twenty years of age Cersei guessed, the widow of a minor captain who went down with his ship when the ironmen had attacked. She was no maiden for sure, after being bedded on her wedding night. But the marriage had lasted only a fortnight before the captain died. With no children, and no sign of her being pregnant with one, and with the captain leaving no brothers or sisters, she had inherited his holdfast and lands on the coast. Bronn was as suitable as a husband she would ever find, and the young widow and her family should be glad to have him, especially as he was friends with the Lord of Casterly Rock. Tyrion had insisted they get married here, in Casterly Rock, soon after Bronn was elevated to his lordship by decree from King Tommen.

"A Lannister pays his debts," Tyrion had told Cersei when she protested upjumping this common sellsword to the rank of lord. It was night and they were in the small council room, alone, after a regular meeting.

"Bronn saved me more than once. I owe him my life," Tyrion reminded her.

"Then pay him in gold and trinkets, as you have been doing," she told him. "We have enough of those. Lordships are a prize we should not give out so freely. Upjumping him will cause the real lords to question our wisdom."

"Real lords?" Tyrion said in that mocking tone she despised. "Bronn earned his lordship. Perhaps a few others have as well. But the rest of them were just lucky enough to be born to a woman who had sworn some vows and spread her legs for a lord. As were those lords' fathers, and their fathers before them, all the way back in time."

"The same as you then," Cersei shot back and Tyrion gave her a little mock bow.

"Yes, dear sister, the same as me. If I had been born to a peasant family they would have thrown me down a well. But I was not, and neither were you. We have had the good fortune to be born to titles and wealth. Bronn was not, which is why I trust him more than all these other so-called lords. He earned his place. Some of these other lords have yet to prove themselves at all."

"They have supported our family for centuries."

"Yet they drag their feet sending their children to be fostered here," Tyrion reminded her. "It has been over a moon's turn since I commanded all families to send a child or grandchild to be Tommen and Mrycella's companions. How many have arrived at the Rock?"

"Three," Cersei said quietly, knowing he already knew this.

"Three," Tyrion repeated. "Two grandsons of minor lords and a daughter of the Lord of Kayce who may be a lack wit, the maesters tell me. This is how they prove their loyalty to Casterly Rock and their King? I think not."

He was mad about this she could tell, but she cared not. In fact, she was quite glad they had dragged their feet in sending their children. The less loyal the lords of the Westerlands proved to be to him the easier it would be to bring him down.

If only you had died in the Vale, you little worm, Cersei thought for the hundredth time as she sat at the wedding feast table next to Tommen, who was laughing at his uncle's antics. Cersei could almost see herself thanking Catelyn Stark for kidnapping him and dragging him to the Vale, if it had worked out with him being dropped off a mountain. But no, the sellsword had saved the worm and captured Harrenhal and even helped Jaime as he tried to save Joffrey back at King's Landing. Lannisters paid their debts, that was true. But this wedding was a mockery. Held in one of the finest ballrooms of the Rock, if the not the whole realm. Tyrion had at first insisted on the throne room, formerly the great hall, but at that Cersei had put her foot down.

"Never," she said in a cold voice and he agreed after a moment of hesitation. "He can have his wedding in a pig sty for all I care," she added.

"No…in the Golden Ballroom," Tyrion said. It's walls were gilded in gold and it was reputed to be the most lavish ballroom in the Seven Kingdoms. She argued against that and he would not back down so she let it go.

Now the wedding ceremony was done, the feast was in full swing, and her brother drunk, as expected. Jaime sat on the other side of Tommen with Myrcella next to him, the Hound standing directly behind her chair with the other Kingsguard nearby. Jaime still had not picked some new men for the Kingsguard, claiming there were none of quality. So the walls of the ballroom were lined with Lannister guards as added protection.

The rest of the guests were lords and ladies, with a few soldiers and sailors, and the family of the bride. And Podrick Payne, of course, for once not serving his lord Tyrion, but a full guest, although seated at a small table in a far corner with some other young men and women of some minor families. Aunt Genna was one of the notable absentees, claiming to be still in mourning for her dead husband who she most likely never loved anyway.

Bronn had no family or friends other than Tyrion so that was a blessing at least. But the bride had brought her mother and father and two older brothers and their wives and many cousins and aunts and uncles and they were all here or at the many small tables scattered through the room, feasting on food the like of which most had never seen before and drinking the best vintages of the Arbor. We have to show we still have power and wealth, Tyrion had said, when he insisted on the best for Bronn's wedding feast. And now the lords and ladies of the Rock and the West and those of lesser rank lined up like pigs at the trough, gorging themselves on her family's provender.

Cersei had been polite when she greeted them all, even the new bride's family. But they were but one step up from commoners. The bride's father was a knight who had broken a leg when his horse fell on him in the Sack of King's Landing, Tyrion had told her, one of the very few Lannister casualties in all of Robert's Rebellion. The leg had never healed properly and now he limped everywhere with a cane. His wife was a plump woman who laughed at everything, especially as she drank more, and seemed to be taking a shine to Bronn and his bawdy language.

"A real lord for my girl," the woman said with big eyes, as she stuffed her face with more cakes and wine. "Imagine that," she said to her husband with a poke from her elbow.

"Yes, dear," the old knight said with a heavy sigh. He smiled wanly and Cersei could see he was uncomfortable. She imagined his unease was either because he was embarrassed at his wife's antics or was because he was here in this place and with the company that was at the table. 'The King! At my girl's wedding!' She could just hear the mother bragging till the day she died. She could also hear the husband sighing and hoping for a quick death. They were so unimportant Cersei could not even remember their names though she had been introduced to them but a short while ago.

"Time for the bedding!" Tyrion shouted as he jumped off the table and everyone laughed and shouted as well and then soon enough Bronn and his little wife were carted off to an adjacent bed chamber, with Tyrion waddling and swaying and leading the way, a bottle of Arbor gold in his hand.

"I have had enough," Cersei said to Jaime as she stood from the table. She had only come at the insistence of Jaime, who said they had to show a united front to the lords and ladies.

"Not to worry sister, I will stay to represent the family till the end," Jaime said with his usual dashing grin. "And carry Tyrion to bed it seems as well."

Cersei said nothing but turned and then looked at Sandor Clegane. "Escort me to my chambers," she said.

"Yes, Your Grace," he answered in his rough voice. They had still not found the assassin that had put a knife to her throat and killed so many. Tyrion and Jaime insisted he was long gone but Cersei would take no chances.

As they walked in silence through the corridors many guards that were posted dipped their heads and said "Your Grace". She acknowledged none of them, as she never did unless she needed something. They were servants, she was a queen, that was how it was, how it would always be. Unlike her brother the Imp she had no need to curry favor and make friends with those beneath her. And since everyone in the realm was beneath her status, that made life very simple. And also very lonely.

At her quarters Clegane checked her rooms for intruders and was about to leave when she stopped him. "Stay," she commanded and he stood still and waited for her orders.

Good, she thought. He is an unquestioning soldier like the rest. He would do for what she had been planning ever since the night of the assassin's attack. She poured two cups of wine at her sitting table and sat and adjusted her silken skirts so her crossed legs showed off to just below the knee. She smiled at him. "Sit and have a cup of wine with me."

He did not look surprised as she expected, but only made a grunt. "It is not permitted, Your Grace. I am on duty."

"Sit," she commanded "It is permitted when I give the command. Sit."

With reluctance he sat opposite her. "Drink," she ordered and this time he did not question her, only picked up the offered cup and drank the wine in one long gulp.

"Gods, that is good wine," he said when done and then he grabbed the flagon and poured some more without even asking.

"It should be. Straight from the finest vineyards in the Arbor. Nothing but the best for the Lannisters."

He grunted again and drank some more and then put down his cup and looked straight at her, his scarred face hideous so close up. "What do you want…Your Grace?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Straight to it, I see."

"I never liked people who fucked around with words," Clegane growled. "Your fuckin' brother the Imp is the worst at that."

"Yes, he is," she said, trying not to flinch as he spoke his harsh words. Well, if you lie with dogs expect them to growl now and then.

He drank some more, finished the second cup and poured himself a third. "So…what do you want?" This time he did not call her 'Your Grace'. Cersei felt a bit of anger at that but let it slide.

"I want you to kill someone for me."

He laughed and that shocked her, the laugh cold and harsh. He drank some more and now there was a strange light in his eyes, as if he was happy about the idea of killing. "Name the man…or woman," he said. "It is done."

"Bronn."

He grunted and again seemed unsurprised. "When?"

"When I say."

"The Imp will be pissed."

"I know," Cersei answered. "Can you take him?"

"I can. Why?"

"The why is my business. Are you a loyal retainer of House Lannister?"

"I am. And now the Imp is head of House Lannister…Your Grace. You are just the Queen fuckin' Regent, which means shit these days."

She was so shocked at this she could not speak for a few seconds. "You are an insolent cur!" she shouted at him when she found her voice. "You forget your place, ser!'

"And you forget I am no ser…Your Grace." Now the way he said it was like he was mocking her. "Maybe I should go tell your brother what we are talking about."

Cersei was on the edge of panic now, this conversation taking a turn definitely not to her liking. "You are a member of the Kingsguard, Clegane! You must obey my orders!"

"I only take orders like that from the Lord Commander. Aye, maybe we should go ask if he wants me to do some killing for his sister."

He stood and she was lost. "No…wait!"

He waited.

"What do you want?" she asked. They always wanted something. Gold, whores, land, a lordship, even what lay between her legs. He would have it all but the last if he helped her bring down Tyrion. She'd rather jump into the sea than lay with such a brutal, hideous, uncouth man.

Now there was a true light of madness in his eyes and she feared he would ask for her body, but he had other desires. "My brother," he said in a bare whisper. "Dead. My sword dripping with his blood."

Cersei was confused. She knew the Clegane brothers hated each other, an old feud Jaime told her, because of the Hound's hideous disfigurement. But how could she arrange that they face each other in combat? "I…how can I help you do that?" she asked.

"Just see that he comes here, somehow. Do that, and leave the rest to me. Once I challenge him he will not back down. Gregor knows this cannot be avoided in the end. You do that and I will see Bronn and the Imp dead as well. I know you hate him, have known for years. Anyone else you want dead and I will kill them all. Just get my brother where I can face him and kill him."

"And if he kills you?"

"Then you are on your own. If I die before I kill Gregor, then the gods would be truly cruel."

He took his cup and emptied it and turned to leave. "Clegane!" she said and he stopped.

"What now?" he asked in an impatient tone.

She ignored his insolence once more. She had been thinking on something else for a while now and wanted to know if he could have done something about it. "When Joff died…if you had been there…would he have fallen?"

"No," he said quickly. "I would have dragged him back from the battlements' edge."

She sighed. "If only."

Now he laughed again and it was cruel and harsh. "I would not have let him die. Doesn't mean I think he didn't deserve to die."

She glared at him. "I could have your head for that."

"Aye…and you had better take my tongue as well before I tell your brothers what we just talked on."

"They would never believe you!"

"The one you're fuckin'…no, not him. But the Imp would. And that's all that matters. Good night…Your Grace. I will wait word on my brother coming to Casterly Rock."

He left without another word and Cersei collapsed on her divan and shook with rage. She had never been thus spoken to in her entire life, not by her father or Tyrion or Jaime, no matter how much they had been angry at her. Her first instinct was to have him arrested and killed immediately, but who would do it and not talk? No one, she concluded after a few moments.

She drank some more wine and thought and thought but saw no way out. Could she get Gregor Clegane to come here? Maybe. He was near the Golden Tooth now. She had to think on it.

Then more of his words hit home. "The one you're fucking" the Hound had said. Of course he knew about that. He probably knew for years. He was always around King's Landing, always near the royal family, always near Joffrey since he was a babe. Gods, how could she have been so stupid as to think she could get him to do what she wanted without a price.

Then she knew what had to be done. His brother was a monster, with inhuman strength Jaime had told her. She had seen Ser Gregor Clegane a few times in her life, the last at King's Landing during Ned Stark's tournament. He was a beast in human skin, no doubt. Her father had always known of Ser Gregor's rages and the strange things that had happened at his stronghold. But he knew the value of keeping such a dog at his side. Maybe it was time Cersei did the same. Yes, the Clegane brothers would fight. The one who won would become hers and help her bring down Tyrion and his sellsword turned lord.

She was rid of Bronn sooner than she had hoped, but not because he was dead, though she still wished for that. The next day after the wedding in the early afternoon he and his new family headed south to his new seat and Cersei was glad to see their backs as they rode down from the Rock. She was polite in her goodbyes, ever courteous when she needed to be. Tyrion was there as well, in terrible shape, his skin sallow and his eyes bloodshot. Even so he traded some bawdy jests with Bronn about getting busy fathering children and then shook Bronn's hand as they said goodbye.

As soon as they were gone, Tyrion ran straight for a privy just inside the guardhouse by the gates, and soon she and the guards could hear him getting sick. At that moment Myrcella with two of her friends and the Hound in tow appeared at the gates. "Mother, we wish to go into Lannisport," Myrcella announced, as if she was sure Cersei would agree.

"No," Cersei said right away. "We still have not found the assassin." Myrcella argued that Clegane would protect them and Cersei snarled at her and told her to get back inside the castle. She pouted and then she and her friends retreated from her mother's fury. As they left she stopped the Hound and glared at him. "You should know better."

"I told her no and that you would say no, Your Grace," he said, all obedient soldier again. "She insisted on asking you."

"If you can't do your job I will find a new dog."

"That is your right, Your Grace." He didn't raise his voice or blink an eyelash, he was so calm, as if last night had not happened at all.

"No…it is not her right," said Tyrion from behind them, still looking terrible. "The Kingsguard serves for life."

She snorted. "I retired Ser Barristan. I can retire the rest as well."

"Not anymore," he said and she seethed. "See to your duties, Clegane," Tyrion said and the Hound strode off after Myrcella.

"Every time you question my orders in front of others I hate you more," Cersei told him with loathing dripping from her voice.

Tyrion shrugged. "Since you already hate me, what do I have to lose?"

Everything, she wanted to yell at his smug face, but at that moment a rider rode up to the main gates. "My lord, Your Grace!" he shouted as he jumped off his horse. "Message from Ser Kevan."

He dropped to one knee and handed Tyrion a rolled up scroll which Tyrion quickly opened and read. "Ser Gregor's scouts report Stannis has left Harrenhal…he is heading west to Riverrun. This news is many days old."

"Gods," Cersei said as he handed her the message. "He could be near the Golden Tooth already." As she read Tyrion turned to the rider. "Tell Ser Kevan to call a meeting of all commanders. My brother and I will join you soon."

"Yes, my lord!" the man shouted and he was soon gone on his horse in a cloud of dust.

"I am coming as well," Cersei said. Tyrion looked to argue with her for a moment and then just sighed.

"Very well," he said. "Meet us back here as soon as possible."

A short time later they rode down to the main army camp, Cersei in a carriage and her brothers on horses, with many guards as well. As the commanders met in an open pavilion, Cersei sat nearby, mainly listening as the men argued over what to do. It was a very cool day, with clouds in the sky hinting at more autumn rains. Or winter snows.

"Stannis may come down on us from the northeast," her Uncle Kevan said as they stood over a map. "Then he will break his army on the Golden Tooth."

"We should meet him in the open," Ser Addam Marbrand suggested. "He has little cavalry left. We can get him on good open ground between Riverrun and the Golden Tooth and smash him and the war will be done with."

"True," said Jaime, bending over the map on the table. "But there is little good open ground between Riverrun and the Tooth. It is mainly forest and farmlands. Stone walls, hedges, and villages. And he may already be near the mountains. Besides, we have to worry about the Tyrell army hitting us here if we move the bulk of our forces to the northeast."

"I shouldn't worry too much longer on the Tyrells," Tyrion said as he sipped some wine as he sat in a camp chair nearby, not even bothering to look at the map.

"They are a worry," Cersei snapped at him from nearby. "You cannot leave Lannisport and the Rock undefended again!"

Tyrion grinned. "I have every confidence that Mace Tyrell will soon come begging us for forgiveness."

Jaime stared at him. "Little brother, if you have something up your short sleeve now would be the time to tell us."

"Something is afoot, but it has not born fruit yet," Tyrion said. "As for now, we should keep a masking force here, with plenty of scouts to let us know of the Tyrell's movements. Send the bulk of our army up the Riverroad to confront Stannis once and for all and smash him at or before the Golden Tooth."

Cersei shook her head. "No. We need the army here."

"No, Your Grace," Ser Kevan said and she seethed at his arrogance at countering her. "The army is wasting away here. Idleness is not good for fighting men. They are bored and drunk and slothful. Tyrion is right. We must strike now. Stannis has come into the open, and winter will soon be here. It is now or never."

"Agreed," said Jaime and then all the others did as well.

"And what if the Tyrells and the ironmen attack us?" Cersei demanded.

"Then hide in the Rock until we return," Tyrion quipped. "It has never fallen."

"And what if you fail?" she asked, trying to control her anger. "What if Stannis smashes you?" They failed once already, at King's Landing. She could see her comments caused some unease among the commanders.

"You know, Cersei," Tyrion said with an edge of anger in his tone now. "Speaking of failures as an army is about to march into battle is only tempting the fates."

"We will not fail," Jaime told her calmly. "Ser Addam is right. We have the cavalry, Stannis has none. We will win."

The other officers all said the same but it did little to calm Cersei's fears. "We march…tomorrow," Ser Kevan ordered. "See to your men."

With that the meeting ended and the men moved to began to give orders. The great army was on the march again, and soon excitement flowed through the camp. Men began to move, the army stirred, and soon would awaken and march off to war once more.

Cersei sat at a table just outside Jaime's tent as he prepared his armor. "I need you here," she said to him in a pleading tone after he had told her he was going with the army.

"I can best defend our family in the field with the army, Cersei," he said as he adjusted some buckles on his armor.

"Where is your squire?" she asked.

"I sent him to take care of my horse. Why?"

She ignored the question. "Will you return to the Rock tonight?"

"There may not be time."

She stood after he said this and went into his tent and said not a word. In moments he was with her and she was already taking off her dress, which she laid on a chair next to his bed.

"Cersei…we shouldn't. Not here."

"It may be the last time, my love," she said. And then she was in his arms and in moments he was out of his clothes and was hard and he lay her on his bed and took her. It was like the old days, hiding their secret love, trying to be quiet, doing it fast and furiously, and making it taste so much sweeter because they knew they could be caught at any moment. As he finished she reach climax and grasp him and kissed him hard to stifle her screams of pleasure.

She lay in his arms for a short time after as they caught their breath. "Come back to me Jaime," she whispered. "Come back to our children."

"I will…with Stannis' head on a pike."

"I care not for that as long as he is dead," she said as she sat up, his mentioning of blood ruining the moment. And then she knew what she had to ask. "I still fear for our safety. When you reach the Tooth, I want you to do me a favor."

"Anything, my love."

"Send Gregor Clegane back to the Rock. With him at my side I know I will be safe."

Jaime looked surprised. "The Mountain? No, he is needed on the battlefield. Besides, he and the Hound should not be anywhere near each other or blood will flow."

"They will obey Tommen to stay their blood feud," Cersei told him. "Or they will both die. I need him. Here."

Jaime sighed. "If he can be spared I will do as you ask."

"Good. I will feel much better if he is here."

She got up and began to dress and then remembered something. "What is Tyrion planning for the Tyrells?"

"I know not. He does not take me into all his plots, you know."

"Yes…he is scheming something. He has talked on making a match for Myrcella. Perhaps with Mace Tyrell's crippled son."

Jaime was dressing now as well and he stopped to look at her in amazement. "He is almost three times her age if not more."

"Better Highgarden than Dorne," Cersei said. "We need allies."

"Not if we defeat Stannis."

"No…not then. Then we will return to King's Landing and put things to right. And all those who supported Stannis will die screaming."

Jaime grinned. "You know sister, sometimes I think you would kill your own blood if you thought they betrayed you."

"I would," she said calmly and he gave her a disquieting look but said nothing.

He exited without even kissing her and then she heard him say it was safe to come out and she did so. No sooner had she sat in the chair again at his table did an old and stooped soldier walk by and stop when he saw her and Jaime. "Your Grace, my lord," he said with a dip of his head.

"Ah, Ser Wilfred," Jaime said with a grin. "Coming along for the battle?"

"No, my lord. These old bones have little strength to swing a sword much anymore."

"Yes, you have done your duty," Jaime said. "My father always spoke highly of you. How fare things with you these days?"

"I am well, my lord. Your brother…yes, your brother. He has been kind to me since I entered his service."

Cersei perked up. She had taken no interest in this old man who appeared to be a dolt who once fought with her father's armies. Now she looked at him intently. Why would Tyrion take him into his service?

"What have you been doing for our little brother?" she asked kindly.

"Oh, this and that, Your Grace. Whatever he asks of me. Ah, there he is now."

Ser Wilfred dipped his head to Tyrion as he came striding up to them with Podrick at his heels. "My lord," Ser Wilfred said and Tyrion smiled.

"Ah, I see you have met Ser Wilfred," he said to Cersei. "Did you know he was the one who slew the Lord of Castamere during the siege there?"

"I did not," Cersei said, wondering how old the man had been when he had done that. That siege had been before she was born, near the end of her grandfather's life, when he was weak and foolish and besotted with a whore of a common woman who he shared his bed with. So Cersei had heard as she grew up. The rest was common knowledge in the Seven Kingdoms. Lord Reyne of Castamere had decided to rebel against House Lannister, thinking with the weak Lord Tytos in charge at the Rock he would easily defeat the Lannisters. But Cersei's father took command of the Lannister army and defeated Lord Reyne and his Tarbeck allies. Now there were no more Reynes or Tarbecks. Her father saw to that and now minstrels across the Seven Kingdoms sung of the deed. Cersei wished to do the same to the Baratheons, the Starks, the Arryns, and the Greyjoys, all those who had opposed her family.

So this old dolt had killed Lord Reyne. He must have been some warrior in his day. Now he looked like he could barely remember how to put on his breeches in the morning. But Cersei hid her scorn and smiled brightly and stood. "I am glad to meet such a noble warrior," she said.

"Your Grace is too kind," Ser Wilfred replied.

Tyrion grinned. "Yes…she is known for her kindness. Come, Ser Wilfred. We have things to talk on."

They moved off and Cersei watched them intently. "When did he come into Tyrion's service?"

Jaime shrugged. "I don't know. Soon after he returned I believe."

"What does he do for Tyrion?"

Again he shrugged. "Why don't you ask Tyrion?"

She ignored the answer. "Doesn't it seem odd he would have such a man in his service?"

Now Jaime laughed. "After Bronn, Podrick, and the hill tribesmen of the Vale? Yes, a heroic knight does seem like an odd choice for Tyrion."

She put it aside for now and they talked on some more things, nothing important, but she lingered and did not want to leave his side. But soon his squire came and Jaime got busy and she knew it was time to leave.

"I must take my leave of you, Jaime," she said quickly after the squire left to take care of some task. She wanted to hug him but in the open she could not risk it. "Please come to me tonight," she whispered.

"I will try," he said and she soon parted from him, with both giving one last lingering look. She knew not if she would ever see him again, no matter how confident he was of victory. They had been confident when they had faced Robb Stark and that had turned into a disaster.

Jaime had called to two nearby soldiers to escort Cersei back to her carriage that would take her back to the Rock. As they fell in behind her, she saw Ser Wilfred shuffling off toward the direction of the small village outside the camp which was located nearby Lancel and his men's smaller camp with its big seven pointed star banner marking its location.

Cersei turned to where he was going and the two guards fell in behind her without saying a word. Good, they know their place at least. She had to slow her pace as the old man was slow. As she walked many soldiers stopped what they were doing and dipped their heads to her and called her "Your Grace". Soon Ser Wilfred took notice of the activity behind him. He stopped and dipped his head as well.

"I would like a word, Ser Wilfred."

"Yes, Your Grace?" he said.

"How did you come into my brother's service?' she asked.

"Well, he did me a kindness, Your Grace."

"How so? Explain."

"I was on hard times, Your Grace," Ser Wilfred said, a look of shame in his eyes. "I was in debt, bad. Lord Tyrion paid the debts, and he gave me a job too, minding… minding… ah, minding the house. Your Grace."

"What house?"

"The one he bought for…in the village."

This was getting interesting. "Oh? He bought a house…does he spend much time there?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Not as much…not as much as he'd liked to."

She could see he was troubled, trying to lie to protect Tyrion but also knowing she was queen and he should not lie. Obedience went deep into most of them, she knew.

Cersei smiled. "Thank you, Ser Wilfred. Have a pleasant day."

"Your Grace," he said with another dip of his head and soon Cersei turned and made her way to her carriage. Her driver and two guards were there waiting for her and the two soldiers Jaime had given her returned to the camp. The driver jumped up to his seat and the guards climbed on the standing board on the back while she entered the curtained carriage. She did not give the order to move out yet and they waited for her instructions. As she lounged in the back she wondered what Tyrion was up to. It had to be a woman, she finally concluded. Why else would he have to have a house in a village and the old knight minding it…and her. Well, well, the little worm's little worm was going to get him into trouble after all.

She knew her brother had been partial to whores most of his life. He had married one once after all. And what woman other than a whore would lie in the same bed as the vile little Imp? If he had a whore or whores in that house she had to find out. It could prove useful in bringing him down.

Cersei spoke to the driver. "Take me to the small village nearby."

The driver obeyed without question and soon they bumped and rattled their way south of the camp and to the village. The road was dirt, and rutted, not the best and Cersei felt every bump. As they rode into the village she peeked out of the curtains and told the driver to move slowly. Soon she saw the old knight, chopping wood outside a two story wooden home. And then she heard a woman's voice.

"Ser Wilfred, that is enough wood. Come inside and rest," said a dark-haired girl in a pretty dress as she came out the front door. Suddenly she looked up and right at Cersei and with a shock Cersei knew who she was. Varys' serving girl. Or was she Tyrion's whore?

Cersei ordered the carriage stopped. She climbed out and the two guards came with her. Ser Wilfred looked at her with wide eyes and then dipped his head. "Your Grace." The girl did the same.

"Welcome," she said right away, smiling, smooth, unafraid. "How may we be of service, Your Grace?"

"You are Lord Varys' serving girl," Cersei said, a statement of fact, not a question

"I was, Your Grace," she replied. "I am Shae."

"Yes," Cersei said, remembering now. "Why are you here in this house my brother bought?"

That shook her, Cersei saw with satisfaction. Shae cast a look to Ser Wilfred who would not look back. And then Shae smiled again. "Lord Tyrion gave me a position as Ser Wilfred's servant. He is too old to cook and clean by himself."

"My brother is very kind to you, Ser Wilfred."

"He is, Your Grace," the old knight replied. Cersei knew the house was not for this old knight. He had said he was minding it. The house was for her. Cersei was about to ask why her brother bought a house for her when the girl spoke quickly.

"May we offer you a cup of wine, Your Grace?" Shae asked. "The house is a bit of mess, I am afraid. We are packing."

"Oh?" Cersei said. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes, Your Grace," said Shae. "Lord Tyrion has offered us to Lord Bronn to be members of his household. We leave for his new holdfast on the morrow."

Cersei knew once they were with Bronn she would never see the girl again, this girl who had served Varys and who now seemed to be something special to her brother. That decided it for her. She turned to her guards. "Seize her."

But it did not go exactly how Cersei wished. As the guards approached the girl she remained calm but old Ser Wilfred got it into his head to be a chivalrous knight once more. He picked up his ax he had been chopping wood with, let out his old battle cry and charged at the two guards.

"NO!" Shae shouted but it was too late. The old fool swung and missed and in a heartbeat three feet of steel was in his unprotected belly. As the guard withdrew his bloody blade the old knight let out a small cry and then fell to the ground in agony.

Shae tried to dash to his side but the guards seized her arms. She glared at Cersei with anger. "He was an old man!"

"Now he is a dead man," Cersei said without emotion.

"Tyrion will hear of this!" Shae yelled.

"So it is Tyrion now, not Lord Tyrion?" Cersei asked. She looked at the guards "Search her, bind her, and then search the house."

They found a slender dagger under her skirts strapped to her inner thigh and took it as Shae struggled. The driver of the carriage had to help them. He took a length of rope and tied her hands to the carriage frame as she spit in his face and tried to kick him and cursed him in some foreign tongue Cersei did not know. She is a foreigner, just like Stannis' red whore, Cersei thought.

Soon a crowd of villagers gathered and Cersei commanded one man to go to the army camp with the seven pointed star banner and return with some soldiers. As Shae continued to curse in her foreign tongue, the driver stood over her with her dagger in his hands and the guards searched the house. On the ground Ser Wilfred groaned, holding his hands over his belly as the blood gushed out.

An old village woman bent to him. "He is dying, Your Grace."

"Yes…he tried to attack me, the old fool."

"No," Ser Wilfred groaned. "Lannister…I serve House Lannister."

"Not anymore," Cersei said with spite. She cared not for his past deeds, only what he did now. "I will call for a maester if you tell me what has been going on here."

But the old knight still had courage as he neared death. "I know not. Let me die in peace woman." And then he was gone and Shae looked at Cersei with daggers. "His blood is on your hands!"

Cersei ignored her and spoke to the old woman and the villagers. "Take him away. Dig a grave and bury him."

"He should go to the Sisters, Your Grace" said the old woman. "Have a proper funeral."

"Do as I command or I will burn this village to the ground!" Cersei yelled at them. They quickly moved to obey her after that, some men picking up the bloody body and moving off with it.

"Cersei…Your Grace, what is going on?" said a familiar voice. It was Lancel with some of his men with the seven pointed star on their surcoats, brought from their camp nearby by the villager. Good, Cersei thought. He would do as she said, she knew. He always did.

"I found a traitor on our doorstep, cousin Lancel. This foreign whore was a serving girl for Lord Varys. Now she is a spy for Stannis Baratheon."

"Lies! All lies!" Shae shouted as she struggled with her bonds. "Lord Tyrion will tell you it is all lies!"

"Oh?" said Cersei with delight. "Is my brother also a spy for Stannis Baratheon?"

"You are mad!" Shae yelled at her with scorn. "He is the only one who can save you!"

"Cersei!" Lancel said in a fierce whisper as he grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. "What madness have you started here?"

She glared at him and pulled her arm away. "You forget yourself, ser. I could have your hand chopped off for touching me."

Lancel gave a snort. "Why stop there? Other parts of me have touched you as well."

That took her aback. Did he no longer care for his head? Would he no longer obey her? "She is a spy!" Cersei said again, loudly.

"Lies!" Shae countered once more.

At that moment the guards came out of the house "Your Grace, we found these." They held up a small set of clothes and boots, all in Lannister colors. All fit for a dwarf.

"So, the Imp stayed here," Cersei said with satisfaction. "She seduced him and took his secrets when he lay with her. That is all I need to know. Lancel, your men will stay here with the prisoner. You keep her here under guard until night fall. Then you bring her to the Rock. Make sure she is gagged and her head covered when you do so."

Lancel looked to protest but then only spoke a warning. "We will be seen by someone. Lord Tyrion will soon know. He will question me."

Cersei smiled and spoke in a low voice. "Not to worry, dear cousin. I shouldn't worry about what he thinks. Soon he may no longer be in charge around here. And I will be."

"That matters not to me," Lancel replied. "I serve the Seven now. But I will not drag my men into your madness without good cause."

"You say you serve the Seven? Then serve them," Cersei snarled and pointed at Shae. "She is an enemy in the service of Varys and Stannis and his red god. You must remember she was with Lord Varys when we escaped King's Landing."

Lancel hesitated and looked at Shae. "Yes…it was her." Then he nodded once to Cersei and gave his orders to his men to take Shae into the house and stay with her. Cersei ordered one of her guards, the one who had killed Ser Wilfred, to stay as well.

Nightfall came and Lancel did as he was ordered. He followed her instructions and the girl was gagged and her head was covered. Cersei knew Tyrion was still at the army camp, going over last minute details with Kevan and Jaime. The halls she ordered cleared and soon she had Lancel's men take the girl Shae to the dungeons.

It was a long walk down many flights of stairs before they reached the lowest levels where the cells and torture chambers were located. Cersei had warned the head gaoler of the Rock to expect a guest and he was ready. He was a large black-haired black-eyed battle-scarred brute of a man, now in middle age, who had broken many a brave man on his rack and with his whips and hot coals. Cersei's father had not been squeamish when it came to torture to find out what he needed to know. She wouldn't be either.

After they handed the struggling girl to the head gaoler and his men retreated back up the stairs, Lancel hesitated to depart. He looked distraught. His noble beliefs of chivalry were fighting with his new found fervor to destroy their enemies, Cersei knew.

"She claims she is innocent," Lancel told her. "While we waited for nightfall, she talked. She said she is his woman, Lord Tyrion's whore, that is all. They said she worked for Varys to cover up his whoring because Lord Tywin ordered him to give up whores."

"She lies," Cersei said with vigor. "My father was already dead when we escaped King's Landing. There was no need to lie about what she was then. She is our enemy, a servant of Stannis and his red god. She worked with Lord Varys, at the camp after the battle. You were wounded, did not see. Varys knew all our secrets and then disappeared, no doubt to help Stannis. She knows what Varys knows."

"Perhaps. But does she need to be tortured?" Lancel asked, his face still distraught.

"If she talks, no," Cersei told him. "If not…well…we are at war, cousin. Stannis is burning his prisoners alive! He would not hesitate to torture any one of us before we died in such agony. We should not hesitate either. Do you want his god to win?"

That did it. The light of religious devotion came into his eyes. "Never!" he said fiercely. "Do what you must."

He turned to leave. "Lancel…not a word."

"As you command, Your Grace." She smiled and he left her then.

Cersei entered the main torture chamber, dimly lit with torches in wall brackets and a brazier with glowing coals on it. The head gaoler already had Shae manacled and hanging from a cross beam on the ceiling, her legs dangling, her toes barely scrapping the stone floor, her arms stretched high above her.

"Strip her," Cersei ordered. The gaoler grinned and grabbed a handful of Shae's dress from behind and ripped it off in a few tugs. Shae let out a small whimper as this was done. Soon she was naked.

She had a lovely body, Cersei had to admit. Shame they would have to damage it. Or maybe not, if she told the truth.

"Remove her sack and gag."

The goaler did as she asked. Shae blinked rapidly as her eyes were hurt by even in the dim light of the torture room. Her thick black hair was matted with sweat and she licked her lips rapidly before speaking. "Water," she croaked and Cersei nodded to the gaoler. He picked up a nearby jug and poured water into her mouth as Shae eagerly drank. She gagged a bit and water splashed down her chin and onto her firm breasts, making them glisten in the torch light.

"Now," said Cersei once Shae was sufficiently ready to speak. "I want you to tell me everything."


	15. Chapter 15 Jon

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 15 Jon**

Snow, Stark, and now Targaryen – who was he? This question raged through Lord Commander Jon Snow's mind as he stood on the Wall and tried to understand the shocking news his father had told him but a short time ago. His father. Was Lord Eddard Stark his father still? Maybe he was. He was the only father Jon had ever known. He had taken him in and raised him amongst his real children, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. It made no sense, none of it and Jon was having trouble grasping it all. He was filled with doubt and misgivings for the future. What did it all mean? Could he tell anyone? Could he tell Robb and his other brothers and sisters? Were they no longer Jon's brothers and sisters? Could he tell Sam or his other friends in the Watch? Would they believe him if he did?

Aye, maybe they would if they heard it from Lord Stark as well. One thing Jon did not doubt. Eddard Stark did not lie. He was known as a man of honor and honesty, at times to his own peril, as he learned when he was Hand of the King for a brief time. What he told Jon had to be the truth. Hard as it was to accept, Jon was the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, this truth hidden from him for sixteen years. He had the cold Stark blood of the North and the fiery blood of the Targaryens of old Valyria. He was ice and fire.

He felt more like ice now, standing watch with his brethren. It was night and Jon stood on the Wall, cold despite being wrapped in furs, brooding in silence as he stared off at the fires of the wildling camp. The cold made him feel the pain in his wounds, the leg that had barely healed, the hand that had been burned saving the Old Bear from the wight. He flexed his hand as he often did when it bothered him. The leg felt stiff and he raised and lowered it several times to ease out the stiffness.

Ghost was sitting on the Wall beside him, as silent as Jon was, staring off to the north as well. All along the Wall his brothers in black stood, looking, waiting, for an attack that never came. The three horn blasts he and Lord Stark had heard had been a false alarm. A cold mist had come down on the wildling's camp and at first they believed the Others had come again. But it was just mist, nothing more, and by late night it was gone. They had all been on high alert and fires still burned high in the wildling camp down below. But the Others had not come. They were out there, still waiting, why, no one knew.

After tomorrow perhaps they would have the haunted forest to themselves. If the wildlings came south. He had so ordered it, but there was one condition. Tomorrow Jon would have to go there and talk to Mance Rayder and convince him to convince his people to give up their wealth to the Night's Watch. To buy food, he would tell them, and he hoped they would agree. They couldn't eat gold and jade and bronze after all.

But all that was far from his thoughts and Jon's mind kept coming back to what Lord Stark had told him. His mother had been Ned Stark's sister Lyanna. All these years and I never knew who my mother was, Jon thought, and her bones had been in the crypts of Winterfell the whole time. He had been unmanned when he heard this news, had broke down sobbing, and felt shame for failing to control his emotions. Maybe it was not so shameful though, he thought now. It was not every day you come to know both your mother and father were dead and the man you thought was your father was not. Lord Stark had broken down as well as he spoke on his dead sister, and finally let some emotion come through his normally grim demeanor.

It was quite a tale Jon had been told. A tale of love and betrayal, of battle and valor, and finally of death, the death of his mother moments after he had been born. Most of all it been the tale of a secret, a secret Ned Stark kept from him and Catelyn Stark and Robert Baratheon and the whole realm for sixteen years. To protect Jon he told his wife that Jon was his, that he had betrayed their marriage vows and he had lain with another woman. That Jon was his bastard.

Bastard. That word stuck in his caw. All his life he had been mocked and scorned and called bastard, often to his face, most certainly to his back. Ned Stark's bastard, he was called throughout the realm. Soon they would say "Did you hear the news? Ned Stark's bastard is commander of the Night's Watch. What fools decided that I wonder?" Jon had to laugh a bit at that. It wasn't any fools, but a raven that had decided. It flew out of the big kettle and landed on his shoulder and croaked "Snow!" and the men of the Watch saw the hands of the gods in it and voted for him to be their leader.

Sam, it had to be Sam. He had to have put the bird in there. But Sam claimed he was innocent, and so did Grenn, and Pyp, and Satin, and Edd. Jon could think of no one else who would do it. Certainly not Ser Alliser Thorne, who Jon knew would remain his implacable enemy despite Jon being elevated to the post of Lord Commander.

As he came back to the question of his heritage and who to tell, one more thing Lord Stark had told him gave him pause. Stannis Baratheon would kill him if he knew who Jon really was. Bastard or not, he represent a possible threat to King Stannis' hold on the Iron Throne. Robb had told him Joffrey had tried to kill that boy Gendry because he was Robert's bastard. Any child of a dead king would be a threat to his legitimate heirs. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had never been king, dying on the Trident from Robert's hammer blows before Jaime Lannister had killed his father in King's Landing. But Rhaegar's children were first in line if there ever was a Targaryen restoration. Yet now his children were dead…except Jon, the bastard.

Yet there was another Targaryen. According to the rumors Cotter Pyke's men had brought from Eastwatch, Daenerys Targaryen still lived. And she had three dragons. And if Jon accepted for truth what his father had told him, then more truths began to unlock in his mind. For one, Daenerys Targaryen was his blood, his aunt, if he were legitimate. Maester Aemon as well. He would be to Jon his…his what? Great-uncle maybe? Jon did not know, since he did not know the Targaryen family tree or its history well. Thinking on all of it made his mind reel once more.

"Gods, why do you torment me so?" he said aloud to the night sky and wind.

"They like to do that sometimes," said a voice and it was Dolorous Edd, coming up behind Jon from the direction of the winch cage. Ghost stood up and growled a bit and then sat again as he sensed this was a friend. "To me especially," Edd continued. "I was just settling down for a nice nap when Bowen Marsh shook me awake and said to tell you what's what."

Jon had to grin at Edd and his forever lamenting his lot in life. "What message does the Lord Steward have for me?" he asked.

"Me," said Edd. "I mean to say, he made me your steward."

"What? I don't need…"

"Aye, you do," Edd interrupted. "With the job come the trappings, Marsh he says to me. Well, I'm one of them. I'm your steward and there it is. I'll more than likely spill the wine and burn the bacon but I'm it so let's just get on with it and speak no more of it…Lord Commander Snow."

Jon did not feel the need for a steward but as he was about to tell Edd so, he recalled Maester Aemon's words just before they had that meeting to decide the fate of the wildlings soon after he was selected as Lord Commander

"It is time to let go of being a boy," Maester Aemon had said to him in a whispered hurry. "It is time to be a man, in all things. Lead, and they will follow, Jon. Hesitate, falter in any way, and they will see it as weakness and will never follow your orders. You have Lord Stark's backing and most of the Watch as well. It is time to pick up the mantle of command. It is time to be Lord Commander, in all ways."

As he remembered these words he knew he had to have a steward. It was expected of him. "I suppose I must look the part if I am to be Lord Commander," he told Edd.

"Aye, my lord," Edd answered. He looked along the Wall to the men standing at intervals. "You all have been up here a long time now. You must be frozen. The Others are not coming tonight."

"No, I think not," Jon agreed. He turned to the man nearest on his left and right and passed the order to maintain normal watch status. As the word spread every second man stepped back from the Wall's edge and went to seek the shelter and warmth of nearby fires. Jon picked five men who had been on duty since early in the day and told them to go to their quarters. Their exhausted eyes thanked him as they walked to the winch cage. "Aye, to my quarters as well then," Jon said to Edd as they walked to the winch cage.

Edd looked troubled. "What is it now?" Jon asked

"Marsh said it was not fitting for the new commander to be sleeping behind the armory," Edd began. "Besides, he said that your father said that a new armorer is coming soon from Winterfell. So I moved all your belongings to the King's Tower. Floor above your father. Three nice rooms, a solar included. It's where the kings stayed when they came here. Whenever that was. I never seen no king here, and likely never will. Anyways, Marsh said it's better to have you close to your father, for war councils and such."

My father is dead, Jon wanted to say, killed with a war hammer on the Trident before he even knew I was born. But he only nodded and said that would do and he and Ghost followed Edd and the other men to the winch cage.

The rooms in the King's Tower were nice and large, well lit with candles, and Edd had somehow already gotten the rooms mostly cleaned up and had a fire going. His few possessions were there, and soon Edd went off to fetch Jon something to eat. Jon felt bad having someone who was older and more experienced running to fetch his meals but he was Lord Commander and it was expected so…that was that.

The Old Bear's raven was there as well, flying out of the bedroom and landing on Jon's shoulder while he stood in his solar. "Corn!" it croaked and Jon found a bag of dried corn on his dining table. As he fed the bird he stared at it. "Did you hide in that kettle all on your own?"

"Snow!" the raven only croaked and Jon sighed. "Yes, that's my name. I guess it will do since I cannot claim any other."

Jon spread a handful of corn on the table and the bird hopped off his shoulder and began to eat. Jon looked around to take in his new solar. There were bookcases, empty, an old ink pot, also empty, plus a lantern that had no oil. Edd hadn't time to take care of these matters yet. But one thing he did take care of and Jon was glad. On a sideboard were three bottles of wine and a jug of ale and some cups. Jon poured himself a cup of ale and sipped it as he stood near the fire, getting warm. Ghost curled up in front of the fire and the glare of the flames made his red eyes seem even more prominent.

"You're lucky," Jon said to Ghost. "You never have to worry about who your father was. Or mother for that matter." Ghost's mother had died with a stag antler stuck in her breast. That was the day when it all began, Jon remembered. Lord Stark had executed the deserter from the Night's Watch. Then on the way home they found the direwolves. Five there were, one for each Stark child...and then one more he found, white, smaller, and then even the bastard could have a pet direwolf.

Did the gods send these direwolves to their family? The stories Robb had told him came back now. How Summer saved Bran from the cutthroat. How Arya and Nymeria saved Sansa on the Kingsroad. How they had dreams of running with their direwolves, except Sansa, who no longer dreamed of it now that Lady was dead. And then…Robb dying, his soul flying to Grey Wind, Arya and he talking but while inside their pets. And Jon knew what they all were. Wargs. He thought it was only him. But it was all the Stark children. Even one who was only half Stark and blood of another Stark.

He ruffled Ghost's fur and Ghost made a yawning sound and dropped his head on his paws and stared at the fire some more. "Aye, to bed then with me as well soon as I have some food."

Edd returned shortly with some mutton stew and bread and an apple plus some bones with a bit of meat on them for Ghost, which the direwolf crunched on with joy. After stoking the fire and bringing in some more wood, Edd left him.

Jon was just finishing his meal when a knock came to his door. "Come," he said and it was Lord Stark.

"Lord Commander," he said. "May I enter?"

Gods, he was being so formal. "Of course….Lord Stark." Ned Stark entered the room. Jon offered him a seat and wine or ale and he took a cup of ale.

Ned looked around the room. "Nice. Better than mine."

"I am the Lord Commander, after all," Jon said in a jesting manner. His father…Lord Stark…Ned…smiled.

"Aye. That you are."

Jon felt a bit uncomfortable so decided to stick with business. "How fare the free folk?"

"Nervous," Ned replied. "Few will sleep tonight I am afraid."

"Aye," Jon said and spoke more before he could stop himself. "I fear the same for myself."

A heavy silence fell between them and knowing looks passed between them as well. Jon was about to speak when Ned spoke first. "How are you taking it?"

Jon sighed. "I…I still hardly believe it."

"It's the truth."

"I know it is. I know you would not lie to me."

"Gods, Jon…I am sorry for keeping this from you for so long."

"I understand why you did it," Jon answered. "And…I think it is best if we keep it so. Keep it between us."

Ned sighed in relief and smiled a bit and nodded. "Aye…best that way. Cat…Lady Stark…she would never understand. Robb and the girls and the young ones…maybe they as well."

"Perhaps," Jon said. "But one day I will tell them…all. I think they must know the truth. Just not now."

That grim look came to Ned Stark's face again and Jon knew he did not agree but he only nodded. "Aye…some day. But know this, Jon. They will be angry. They will say I…you maybe as well…did not trust them. It will change things."

"As it has changed things between us?"

Ned took a sip of his ale and stared at Jon. "Has it?"

"You're not my father, you said."

"Aye, truthfully I am not. But…"

Jon interrupted him and spoke quickly before his emotions clouded his judgment and choked his words again. "Yet you_ were_ my father in so many ways. And so…I would like to continue to call you Father."

Ned broke into a big grin. "I would like that very much."

"Good," Jon said with relief. "Let us speak no more of it…Father. Now…tomorrow, I must talk to Mance about our plan. How can we convince him to convince his people to give us their valuables?"

"It is no east task to separate a man from his wealth without good cause," Ned told him as he settled back in his chair. "Always when the smallfolk bring their produce to pay their taxes to Winterfell I can see the look of anger and sometimes despair in their eyes. Sometimes I ordered the steward to take less than we should have, especially when a harvest was bad or winter soon coming. Yet I knew that we provided things the smallfolk needed as well. Protection, from those that would do them harm. A forge to mend their tools and make what they needed for their homes and fields. A maester to care for their sick and injured. A septon to marry them and pray for their souls when they passed on. Laws, to see men are treated fairly and treat others fairly. Wisdom and guidance in times of trouble like now. All this we lords give the smallfolk. Without us, there would be anarchy. And so it is with this situation. They will give because we will give in return. We will give them the Gift and food to see them through this winter. So they must pay in some way. Mance will see the right of this."

"Aye, I expect he will," Jon answered. "But some will resist."

"Then they can stay north of the Wall and face what awaits them."

Jon had to grin at that comment. "Maybe few will resist once they know that."

"If only a few start to give up their wealth to begin," Ned told him. "Then soon it will become a stream and then a torrent. It will work out, not to worry. Now, what plan is there for this wealth once you have it?"

Jon frowned. He hadn't thought too much on this yet. "I suppose Marsh will count it and evaluate it. Then…I am not sure."

"You will need to buy food…somewhere."

Jon was at a loss. He needed help and felt unsure if asking was a sign of weakness that Maester Aemon said he had to avoid. But he knew his father would not judge him that way. "I could use some advice."

Ned smiled slightly. "Aye. So…food. Few in Westeros have a crust of bread for sale with winter on us. Across the Narrow Sea winter is never as harsh as it is here, especially in the southern cities. Myr, Tyrosh, Lys and Volantis. They will trade foodstuffs for coin and trinkets."

"Then…I will send the wealth with Pyke to Eastwatch and he will send some good man across the Narrow Sea to buy what we need."

"That sounds like a good plan."

The next day Jon and the commanders of the Night's Watch went out to meet Mance Rayder. Jon did not want the men of the North there he had explained to his father the night before, because the Wall was the Night's Watch's responsibility and it and it alone could decide to let the free folk through or not. Jon told Ser Denys, Cotter Pyke and Ser Alliser Thorne to meet him by the tunnel under the Wall with their horses after they broke their fast.

As they assembled Jon told them they were going to the wildling camp to negotiate with Mance Rayder. They seemed to know this already and they reacted as Jon knew they would.

Ser Denys agreed right away. "Let us be done with this so the sooner I can return to the Shadow Tower."

Cotter Pyke was defiant at first. He spat and glared at Jon. "If I get within a sword length of that traitor I may gut him."

Jon glared back. "You do that and we are all dead. We go alone and with no escort."

Pyke spat again. "Maybe I do not value my life as much as you…Lord Commander."

"Then maybe you should not come," Jon retorted.

Pyke grunted. "I'll come…just so I know you do not give away the Wall while you are at it."

Jon grinned at that comment. "Not the Wall…just some land south of it." He looked at the last man, Ser Alliser Thorne. "What say you, Ser Alliser?"

"I still say it is a mistake you will rue some day soon…Lord Commander." He said Jon's title with scorn dripping from his voice. "But I am a man of the Watch. I follow orders. You may have stolen the election for your post, or had Ser Piggy do it for you, but you are commander now. Just know this. Falter once and no one will follow you again."

"Follow me now," Jon commanded and he turned without another word and headed for the tunnel under the Wall, leading his horse, with Ghost walking alongside of him. Sam and Grenn were waiting by the tunnel and gave him reassuring grins and nods of the head. On the other side, the Greatjon was in command of the timber and stone barrier.

"Going to a funeral?" Lord Umber shouted to them in his booming voice as they climbed on their horses. "The long faces on you grim lot are better suited for burying the dead, not negotiating."

"You just mind your little wall, Lord Umber," Pyke said to him.

"Aye," the Greatjon said back. "We'll be here, in case you come running back with your tail between you legs."

Pyke looked ready to jump off his horse and have more than words with the Greatjon but Jon gave him a look. "Enough," he said quietly and they pressed on to the wildling camp. But they did not get to it. The outer guards stopped them and soon Mance, Rattleshirt, Tormund, and Val came out to them on their own smaller horse.

Jon could feel the men with him tense up at the sight of Mance Rayder, their sworn brother, who had deserted them and now led their lifelong enemies.

At first Mance only had eyes for Ser Denys, who had been his commander at the Shadow Tower when Mance still wore the black. "Ser Denys…how long has it been?"

"More than ten years, Mance," Ser Denys said in a grim tone. "Since you deserted."

"Aye," spat Cotter Pyke. "You know what we do with deserters in the Watch, Mance?"

"I do," Mance replied. "Just one more reason I left the Watch. You treat a man like an animal. But a man is not an animal. The free folk know the truth of that. You lot and your kings and lords to the south never seemed to understand it."

"Some men are nothing but animals," Ser Alliser said and Mance looked at him sharply.

"You must be Thorne," Mance said. "Yes, some men act like animals and deserve to be punished. But the laws of kings and lords are not just and treat all men not the same. So I deserted and should have my head cut off? Maybe so. But that is moot now. We have come to an understanding with Lord Stark and the North. They stand beside us as we fight our common enemy. Now what says the Night's Watch? Who is Lord Commander?"

"I am," Jon said loud and clear and Mance broke into a big grin and Tormund Giantsbane laughed aloud. Val's face remained placid, as if she cared not. But not Rattleshirt.

"This traitorous scum is Lord Commander?" he growled in anger. "I will not treat with traitors and turncloaks!"

He spat once and turned his horse around and rode back to the camp, his horse's hooves raising a cloud of snow behind him. No one said a word to stop him.

"Seems all is not well this side of the Wall," said Cotter Pyke with some tone of joy in his voice.

"We are the free folk," Val said with a glare to Pyke. "All men and women are free to do as they think best."

Tormund laughed again. "Aye, and the Lord of Bones is free to stay here and freeze. The rest of us aren't so inclined. What say the Watch?"

"You can come south," Jon said and they broke into smiles. "But…there is a price." The smiles faded quickly.

"Say what you will, Lord Commander Snow," Mance replied.

"We have little food to spare for your people and winter is on us so there will be no more harvests," Jon told him.

"We have food," Val said quickly.

"Enough to last a five-year winter?" Ser Denys asked.

"No," Mance admitted. "So…what is this price we must pay?"

"We need to buy food…and you must pay," Jon answered.

Tormund snorted. "We have no coin like you and the other kneebenders have."

"You have gold," Ser Denys said. "That golden band on your arm could buy many bushels of wheat and sacks of potatoes."

"And you have silver and jade and bronze and many other things of value," Pyke added.

"Every one who can must contribute some wealth," Jon said next. "Or they can't go south."

"So this is the price," Mance said with a grunt. "But what assurances do I have that this wealth will be spent on food for us and not for you and yours?"

"You have my word," Jon told him.

Val laughed in scorn. "Your word? You turned your cloak twice. We trusted you. Ygritte trusted you. Loved you!"

That felt like a hot knife slicing into his heart but Jon kept his composure. "That is all the guarantee I can give you. What say you, Mance?"

"I must bring this to my people, as you know…Lord Commander Snow."

"Don't think too long on this," Jon advised him. "Now the Others stay their hand. But the longer you wait to make a decision the riskier it gets."

"There is no need to tell us that," Mance said grimly. "We will have word to you soon."

With that he turned his horse and Val and Tormund did the same.

"Ygritte?" Cotter Pyke asked as they rode back to the Wall.

"The Lord Commander's spear wife," Thorne said with scorn. "Killed during the attacks. The reason he turned his cloak."

Ser Denys took issue with that. "The Lord Commander has been tried and found innocent of the charges against him."

"He did not deny breaking his oaths with this woman," Thorne shot back. Jon was about to take issue with his insolence but to his surprise Pyke came to his defense.

"Tell me you have not been with a woman in the sixteen years you have been on the Wall, Ser Alliser?" Pyke asked in a mocking way.

"Never!" Thorne replied fiercely.

"I am glad I cannot say the same," Pyke replied with a bawdy laugh and Jon chuckled as well. "And how fare you Ser Denys? Miss women much?"

Ser Denys seemed to turn a bit red or maybe it was just the cold. "Only in recent years I must admit. When I was a young man of the Watch I took whores when I had a chance."

Jon felt good knowing these men, respected leaders of the Watch, had been as weak as he was when it came to women. Yet now he wondered if he would ever taste that sweetness again, being as he was Lord Commander now and could not sneak off to Mole's Town like the rest could. And maybe he would not even want to. He had never laid with a whore and could not even imagine it. Not after being with Ygritte.

As they rode Jon decided he could not let Ser Alliser's insolence go unchecked anymore. He pulled up his horse beside Ser Alliser's. "Next time you have anything to say about me, say it to my face," he told the knight with an edge of anger in his tone.

Thorne grunted. "Shall we start now?"

Jon reined in his horse and Thorne did as well, as Ser Denys and Pyke stopped behind them. "Say what you will and be done with it," Jon told him.

Thorne let fly. "You as Lord Commander? What a travesty. A traitorous bastard. Oathbreaker, cloak turner. Little pup of a boy. What gives you the right!?"

"The men of the Watch voted for me!" Jon shot back, not backing down an inch, his blood up now.

"Aye, they did. Because they are a superstitious lot and your Ser Piggy set that bird in that kettle."

"The men voted as they willed," Ser Denys said from behind them. "Let it go, Thorne. We have no time for bickering between us. I will take Jon Snow for my commander any day over you."

"Aye," said Pyke. "It is done and it cannot be undone."

Thorne said nothing and only spat on the snow. "The Others take you all." Thorne then turned his horse and started for the Wall.

Ser Denys turned red with anger at the insult but said nothing. Pyke only laughed. "Maybe they will before it is all done."

"Thorne!" Jon shouted.

He stopped but did not look back. "Yes…Lord Commander?"

"When Cotter Pyke returns to Eastwatch you will go with him, as master-of-arms."

"As you command," was all Thorne said and he kept riding to the Wall.

"He hates me now more than ever," Jon observed.

"Aye," said Pyke. "He lost it all when your father and Robert and Tywin Lannister took Mad Aerys off his throne of iron. Not to worry. He'll be under my thumb now. He's a good master-of-arms. But he'll never make commander. Too many men in the Watch hate him now."

Jon and the other two commanders said nothing more the whole way back to the Wall. Jon seethed about his confrontation with Thorne but now it was done, a decision had been made, and he put it behind him. Once in Castle Black he reported to Robb and his father all that had happened. All they could do now is wait for Mance Rayder to convince his people.

After this Jon had one more task to do. He had to write to King Stannis in King's Landing and tell him all that had gone on. He found Edd and told him to find him parchment and ink and quills. Before long Edd had done so and brought Jon his lunch of fried ham and boiled potatoes as well.

After he finished eating he looked at the bare parchment and thought and thought. He had to begin somewhere and so began with Stannis' name and titles. And then he wrote his first letter to a king.

"_I am Jon Snow, bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell," _he began though he knew it was no longer true, a truth Stannis could never know._ "The men of the Night's Watch have selected me as their new Lord Commander. As such I report to you on happenings at the Wall. We have been under attack by first wildlings and then the Others and their wights for some weeks now. Lord Stark and many of his Northmen have come to our aid and we are grateful. But now we in a new situation. We have joined forces with the wildlings to fight the common foe, the Others. They are real. I have faced them in battle. We have killed some, but need more weapons made with dragonglass, also called obsidian, or Valyrian steel. This is all that can kill them._"

Jon stopped and looked and felt good about what he wrote. But the next part would be tricky.

"_For each wildling the Others kill, a blue-eyed wight arises. To forestall this I must let the wildlings settle south of the Wall, in the realm. I fear I cannot wait for your opinions on this matter, my king. I must decide now. The Gift of land south of the Wall was given to the Watch a long time ago. It is ours to use as we see fit. I would settle the wildlings on the Gift. In time I hope they become good citizens of the realm. I also must ask you for more support in our fight against the Others. If we do not stop them here, I fear they will overrun the realm. May the gods be with you in your battles as well, my king._"

He sat and stared at it in the candlelight for a long time and then signed his name at the bottom. "_Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch_."

He dipped sand on the parchment and let it soak up the extra ink. After he shook and blew the sand off the letter, he stood and carried it to Maester Aemon's chambers. He was happy to see Sam there as well. Sam was sitting and hovering like an old wife as Maester Aemon ate. The blind maester could eat well by himself but at times Sam said he needed help. Jon paused on the threshold of the doorway, not wanting to interrupt them.

"Jon…I mean Lord Commander," Sam said as he stood.

"It is still Jon, when we are alone," he told Sam with a grin "I have a letter to send to King's Landing."

"Ah, for the King?" Aemon asked as he put down his folk on his plate.

"Aye," Jon said. He handed it to Sam. "Please read it to him, Sam. I wish to know if you approve, maester."

"Shall I begin?" Sam asked and after Maester Aemon nodded Sam read the letter and then Aemon said nothing for a while and Jon worried.

"Is it not proper?" Jon asked. He had never written to a king before.

"It is fine," Aemon said after a moment. "I was just thinking on the wording. They say Stannis Baratheon is a hard man. He expects all to bend the knee to him and follow his orders. He may not take well this telling him our news after these matters have already been decided by you."

Jon understood but also knew Stannis had no power over them. "The Watch decides for itself."

"True," Aemon replied. "But this matter is one that the Watch has never decided before."

"I will change the wording if you think I must."

Aemon thought some more and then shook his head once. "No. You are commander now. Stannis is king. He must know who he is dealing with. He will see you as a young boy and question our wisdom in choosing you. This letter will show him you have what it takes to be commander."

Sam grinned and Jon could not help but blush a little. "Good. Then send it as is."

Sam got some black wax from the maester's supplies. After they melted some wax and sealed the letter Sam took it to the rookery.

When they were alone Jon sat with the maester and told him quickly what else was on his mind to get it over with. "Lord Stark told me we are family."

Maester Aemon sighed heavily. "So it is done. I had not expected him to do it so quickly. He has struggled with this secret for so long. And you must forgive him for sharing this news with me, Jon. He did not tell me willingly. And I pieced much of it together myself."

"There is no anger between my father and I, maester," Jon told him. "I have forgiven him and I know why he did what he did. At least now I know the truth. But …I'm still finding it hard to accept."

"Yes. As expected. Already there is a burden of command you must bear Jon Snow. This news must make your life even harder."

Jon had not expected such sympathy. "It…yes. But I cannot dwell on it. I just…I just wanted to know what you could tell me…about my father."

"I know some," Aemon Targaryen replied. "But I never met him, or his wife and his other children, who died at King's Landing. My history with my family is not very much since I joined the Night's Watch. I was a grown man, already a maester of many years, when I came to the Wall almost seventy years ago. In all that time I have not left."

Jon could hardly believe it. "Never?"

"Never."

"But…your family were kings and queens. Surely they would have let you, given you permission to leave. Even for a trip to see them."

"You forget, Jon Snow. We are men of the Night's Watch. No man may leave unless he is on a mission for the Watch, like our recruiters. Kings and queens have no say in our affairs, as you just clearly pointed out about King Stannis. That is why I came to the Watch in the first place. To avoid problems associated with my family. Our family."

"I do not understand."

Maester Aemon grinned slightly. "No, I suppose not. It is an old tale, like me. I suppose not many know it anymore except some old maesters and those who love history. Once, when I was a small boy, my grandfather sat the Iron Throne. I knew I would never sit there. My father had three older brothers. I had two older ones as well. And a younger one. Aegon…but I always called him Egg as did most of our family. As a boy he liked to play with a dragon egg that had petrified. Through chance and misfortune my father's older brothers passed away with no children to carry on their names. And then my father died as well, fighting one of the Blackfyre pretenders. I have a book here somewhere, with all the details of our family's misfortunes. If you care to read it."

"I would."

"I will have Clydas bring it to your quarters."

"No, Sam. He would not question why I want it and if he was curious I could trust him not to talk on it to any other men of the Watch."

Aemon nodded. "That is wise. Such news is best kept to yourself. Many would take a keen interest in you if they knew the truth."

"My father…Lord Stark I mean…he said King Robert would have killed me if he had known. He says Stannis Baratheon would want to kill me also."

"It may be so," the aged maester agreed. "King Robert had no love for our kind, though he is part Targaryen through his father's side."

That news surprised Jon. "I did not know that."

"Few do. Yes, Robert's father's mother, his grandmother, was Rhaelle Targaryen, daughter of my brother Aegon. He used this connection to make solid his claim to the Iron Throne. But it could not stay his anger at our family. I now know his wrath was misplaced, for the love of a woman who never loved him. But still…for years I feared he would send someone to cut my throat one night…but maybe he forgot about me. Or maybe he thought I was too old to matter anymore."

"I'm no threat to Stannis' claim either. I am a bastard, just as all Robert's children are."

"Ah," said Maester Aemon. "It may be true that Joffrey and Tommen and Myrcella are not Robert's and are the Kingslayer's children, but still many uphold their claim to the throne and Stannis must see the two who still live dead or his claim will never be secure. So, yes we should worry on Stannis and say nothing to anyone."

"Aye."

Maester Aemon cleared his throat. "So…my tale. The Iron Throne would have gone to one of my older brothers but they had also died and their only children were but babes, a girl and a boy. Sadly, the girl was a lack wit and the boy still in swaddling. So a council was held by the great lords of the realm in the 233rd year since Aegon the Conqueror's landing. They offered me the crown. By then I was already a maester and had no desire to take on such a burden. So the crown fell to my younger brother Egg, who became King Aegon, the Fifth of His Name, the same Aegon who was sire to Robert Baratheon's grandmother. And I came to the Night's Watch to avoid causing my brother trouble by having anyone try to use me to replace him."

"A great sacrifice you made," Jon said, wondering how many others could refuse if offered all the power that came with the Iron Throne.

"Not so great," Aemon said with a soft chuckle. "It was more a matter of self-preservation, for myself and Aegon. The Blackfyre pretenders had plagued our family for generations, so attempts to remove the ruler were commonplace. By removing myself from the court and all its intrigue I forestalled anyone who wanted to use me in their plots, with or without my consent."

"So you have been here ever since?"

"I have…almost 67 years now I believe."

"That is a long time."

"Yes. I came and our family continued to rule…until Aerys set the realm against us. Rhaegar…he would have made a great king I believe. But he never had a chance to prove it."

"You said you did not know him."

"Did not meet him…but I knew him," Aemon corrected Jon. "Many letters he sent to me over the years. He valued my wisdom on many matters. But that is another tale for another time."

"But what was he like?" Jon asked with keen interest. All he had ever heard of Rhaegar Targaryen had painted him as a cruel monster who had done the Stark family wrong.

"He was fare to look on, everyone said," Maester Aemon began. "And he sang and played music with great skill. And he was a fierce warrior. Though…from his letters I had the feeling he would have rather spent the day in a library than on a tourney ground. He was intensely curious about many matters. And he read voraciously from what I learned of him from others."

"But…was he a good man?"

"Ah…you have only heard the stories of his cruel deeds. Stories which are most likely not true, as you now know. His father was mad, that is true, and did many cruel things. Others in our family have also suffered this taint. But not Rhaegar. He was a good man…who loved the wrong woman."

Jon nodded. "He was already married when they met."

"Yes. At Harrenhal…a great tourney, with dire consequences for many. He was married and Lyanna was to be betrothed to Robert. But she and Rhaegar fell in love there…and all that came from that fateful meeting led us to where we are now."

Jon knew what he meant, Robert's Rebellion and all that followed. But Jon also knew that if they had never met he would never be.

Maester Aemon fell silent as Jon sat brooding on his words. "Thank you for your time, maester," Jon said finally and he prepared to leave.

Then the aged maester spoke once more. "Jon…I am here to advise the Lord Commander. On all matters. If you ever wish to speak to me, my door is always open."

"Thank you, maester. I will do that."

"Good," Aemon replied. "Before you go I have one piece of advice."

"Aye?"

"I told you must let go of the boy to be the man," he told Jon. "You have taken the first steps, but must stay true on the course you have set. Time is running out, Jon Snow. Today you tried to convinced the wildlings to give up their wealth. But that is just the first step. We must get them safe behind the Wall, find them food, settle them on the Gift. And many of our brethren still do not trust them. Nor do lords like Greatjon Umber. One mistake could undo all our good intentions."

Jon let him finishing talking and then spoke. "Then I best not make any," he said."Thank you, maester. I will come back when I need more wisdom."

At that moment Clydas came to fetch the maester's lunch dishes and Jon left. Outside the maester's door Ghost was sitting and as Jon came out he sat up and followed Jon to the dining hall. Jon told Ghost to wait outside and Ghost ran off when he saw Grey Wind coming across the practice yard. Some men were moving snow out of the practice yard and they stepped back when they saw the two great direwolves beginning to chase each other around.

After his meal Jon took meetings with his commanders, and made plans for Pyke and Ser Denys to return to their commands. Thorne was not invited to the meeting and Jon would have nothing more to do with him. He had made his feelings clear, he was going to Eastwatch and that was that. The sooner Pyke and Thorne went to Eastwatch the better. But Jon wanted to wait for the free folk to make a decision before he sent them back. As he feared, the free folk were slow to decide.

Three days passed and the free folk still made no decision and thankfully the Others still did not attack again. These days passed very uneventfully. The men rose in the morning and stood their watches and trained and ate their meals and cut wood and removed snow and did as the men of the Night's Watch had done for thousands of years.

Jon's father and brother and some of Mance Rayder's people sent out patrols deep into the forest but found no wights or Others. All was quiet, for now.

Then on the morning of the fourth day after Jon had returned once more from meeting Mance Rayder to hear his people were still discussing the matter, a small group of men came up the Kingsroad. There were seven of them on six horses and with a wagon. Aside from the wagon driver, the other six seemed to be warriors. Five wore the direwolf sigil of Winterfell. As Robb and Lord Stark were north of the wall seeing to their men there, it fell to Jon to greet these new comers as they climbed off their horses.

"Jon Snow!" shouted one of them, an older man with a bushy red beard. Jon knew him from his days at Winterfell and the others as well and soon he was clasping all their hands and greeting them warmly. The were looking at the Wall in awe and Jon had to grin and wondered if he looked the same the first time he had come to Castle Black.

The last man hung back, seemingly unsure of things and Jon knew him not. He was tall and broad, with a square jaw and deep blue eyes, his shaggy coal black hair sticking out of an old fur hat. He was wrapped in furs and a long grey cloak, but still seemed to be shivering in the cold. As he adjusted his cloak Jon saw a blacksmith's hammer on his belt and knew this must be Gendry.

Jon approached him and shook his hand, which Jon felt nearly crushed his own fingers though the blacksmith seemed to hardly put any effort into the handshake.

"I am Lord Commander Jon Snow," he told Gendry. "You must be the new blacksmith."

"Aye…yes…I mean, yes, my lord," Gendry replied with a stammer, his eyes downcast. "I am Gendry."

Gods, he seems so reserved for one so big and strong, Jon thought. Jon knew who he was, knew who his father was, knew his father had killed Jon's father on the Trident. He shook that horrible thought aside as he looked at the boy…man, I should say, Jon thought. He had only seen Robert Baratheon once, at the feast at Winterfell, and Jon the bastard was not even introduced to him so they never spoke. But he could see Gendry had the look of the dead king. Tall, broad, black of hair and blue of eye, a black beard still growing. Aye, he was the king's son.

One of the Northern lords came along at that moment and Jon asked him to find quarters and food for the five men from Winterfell and they soon went off leading their horses. Jon looked at the horse Gendry had rode on.

"My brother Robb says this horse was a gift for my sister Arya."

"Yes…my lord. She…she gave My Lady to me. I had no horse of my own."

"My lady?"

"The horse's name, my lord. My Lady. I…it's a jape…between your sister and me. See…she hates…"

"Anyone calling her 'my lady'," Jon finished and he and Gendry both broke into grins. "Come, let us find her a stall in the stable and then I will show you your quarters and send word to Lord Stark you are here."

The armory was cold and Jon and Gendry soon got fires going and right away he starting piling the forge with coal and got it going as well. Jon and some other men helped him bring in his tools and some heavy pig iron bars from the wagon the men came up on. Jon saw that the wagon's horses and driver got fed and a place to rest as well. After the other men had left the armory Jon watched as Gendry looked around the forge and picked up the tools there and tested them and nodded in approval.

"The armorer here knew his trade," Gendry said.

"He should," Jon replied. "He was armorer for the Baratheon family of Storm's End for many years till he lost his arm and then joined the Watch."

Gendry was staring at him intently. "The Baratheons?"

"Aye. Donal Noye made King Robert's war hammer. The one he used to kill my…to kill Rhaegar Targaryen." Gods, he almost slipped up. He had to be more careful.

Gendry only nodded and then picked up his own hammer and Jon could no longer stop himself from telling him. "I know who you are."

Gendry's hammer hit the anvil with a dull _thunk_. "I suppose Lord Stark told you…everything."

"Yes…and Robb as well."

Gendry gulped and turned a bit red and cast his eyes down. "So you know about…me…and…and…"

"Arya? Aye."

Gendry said nothing, but turned away from him and stoked the forge some more.

"Do you really love her?" Jon had to ask. She was still his little sister and he felt a strong need to protect her.

Now the blacksmith turned to him and his eyes were fierce in their determination, no longer shy and downcast. "I do," he said and there was a stubborn cast to his face as if he was daring Jon to challenge him on this matter.

Jon only smiled. "Good…she…she's special."

"I know," Gendry replied, his face relaxing.

"You must tell me about all your adventures."

Gendry was about to answer when the outer door opened. It was Grenn, holding his sword. "Lord Commander? Is the new armorer here?"

"Aye, he is," Jon said. "Get in here and shut the door before you heat all of the North."

Grenn stepped in and looked at Gendry, who was taller than Grenn but maybe not as broad. "My sword needs some mending," Grenn told him.

"Aye, bring it here," Gendry answered. Grenn stepped over and handed the sword to him which Gendry began to examine.

"You just arrived," Jon said to him. "You should eat and rest first."

"Sam's bringing him some food," Grenn told them.

"What? How did…?" But then the door opened and Sam came in with a tray of food, soup and bread and ale.

"Welcome to the Night's Watch," he said in a loud voice as he set the tray down. "I am Sam Tarly of Horn Hill." He smiled broadly and stuck his hand out and Gendry shook it. "Come now, eat up before it gets cold."

Gendry smiled. "Thanks. I am hungry."

He set Grenn's sword down on a bench and then sat on a stool by another work bench and began to eat. Just then Lord Stark came into the armory. Gendry stood up right away and dipped his head. "Lord Stark."

Jon's father crossed the room and clasped Gendry by the arms and grinned at him. "Good, good. You are here," Ned said to him and then his face fell a bit. "Lad…I am sorry I dragged you away from…from Winterfell. But your hammer is needed here."

"I know, my lord," Gendry said and he looked to Grenn. "First customer."

"And there's more outside," Sam said.

"Who?" Jon asked in surprise.

"Ah…everyone," Sam answered

Jon went to the door and opened it and there was a long line of men holding swords and daggers and shields and helmets and pieces of armor. They were a mix of the men of the Watch and of the North. "Is the armorer here or not?" Pyp shouted from the back of the line.

"Aye, he's here," Jon shouted back. "Right. So, first he is going to eat. Then, one at a time, come in and tell him what the problem is."

Soon the armory was ringing to the sound of steel hitting steel and Jon was surprised to feel some comfort from the sound. Gendry had brought letters from Winterfell for the Starks and some others whose family could read and write and soon the men of Winterfell were happily hearing about their families and news of the south. Not much news about the war in the south was included, however, but they had their own war here so few dwelt on what was happening between Stannis and the Lannisters.

Later that day a message came that Mance Rayder wanted to speak to him. Jon and Pyke and Ser Denys rode out and met Mance and Val and Tormund in the snowy field.

"It is decided," Mance told them at once. "We will give you what little wealth we have. But know this Jon Snow. You betray us in this matter and there will be blood."

"I will not betray you," Jon told him strongly.

"As you say," Mance replied. "Then let us settle the details."

They talked back and forth and finally decided tomorrow they would come, the old and slow, wounded and children first, their wagons and supplies next, and finally the fighting men and women. As for the giants, Pyke and Ser Denys wanted to have nothing to do with them, and Mance had to argue for a while saying they all come or none. Negotiations almost broke down on this matter but soon it was settled and the giants would come as well. If they could fit through the tunnel.

Later Jon returned to Castle Black and it was near nightfall. He took his meal in his solar and then went down to his father's quarters to speak to him.

"It is done," he told Ned Stark. "They will come tomorrow."

"Good. You have done well," Ned told him. "I am proud of you."

Jon felt his cheeks burning and shook off the feeling quickly as they talked on the details. After they finished Jon spoke on Gendry. "The armorer is settling in well."

"Aye, he's a good lad. And a good armorer. You will see. Learned from Tobho Mott in King's Landing." As Ned said these words his face seem to cloud over.

"What is the matter?" Jon asked.

"Gendry…he was the start of all this madness," his father answered. "Jon Arryn and Stannis found him, knew him to be Robert's son."

Jon had heard some of this from Robb already. "And you saw him as well?"

"Aye. We all knew he was Robert's. And began to doubt that Cersei's children were his. But Jon Arryn was dead by then and Stannis was brooding on Dragonstone. If only we had told Robert…but none of us had any real proof."

They fell silent for a few moments and then Jon asked something he had been thinking on but had pushed aside until now. "Robert killed my father."

A heavy silence, then one word. "Aye."

"Did Robert truly love your sister?"

"He did."

"Tell me about her."

And so long into the night Eddard Stark told Jon about Lyanna Stark, a sister to one, a mother to the other. They laughed some and were sad that she was gone and by the time they were done Jon knew the truth of his nagging question he had on the Wall those few days ago. He was all of the things he thought he was. He was a Stark and he was a Targaryen as well. But most of all he was what he always was. He was Jon Snow…bastard he was and bastard he would always be, son to a man who was not his real father, brother to those who were not his real brothers and sisters. But he would still call him father and they his brothers and sisters, for that was what they had always been and always would be. He was also Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, a sworn member and now leader of an elite brotherhood, and above all else that was what he would be till the day he died.


	16. Chapter 16 Tyrion

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 16 Tyrion**

The Lannister army left for the battlefield on a drizzly, cold morning. As the long ranks of marching men-at-arms, knights on horses, and supply wagons moved off to the northeast, Lord Tyrion, King Tommen, Princess Myrcella, Queen Cersei, Lord Commander Ser Jaime, and Ser Kevan sat astride their horses under a large canopy and watched the progression. As the rank and file passed by their King they gave cheers and little Tommen waved at the men as they marched on.

Tyrion Lannister was feeling tired but good this morning, having drunk three strong cups of wine with his breakfast. He needed it, he found, to face his sister these days. He had hoped she wouldn't be here, that the rain would keep her and the children inside, but they had insisted on coming and Tyrion had hurriedly ordered the canopy raised so the royals would not get too wet.

Tyrion had spent the night in the army camp with his brother and uncle, finalizing all plans, sleeping but a short time, and then rising and breaking his fast with them. The bulk of the army would go off to face Stannis somewhere near the Golden Tooth, they decided, while five thousand men would stay behind to help protect Casterly Rock and Lannisport against any possible attacks by the Tyrells or the ironmen. Of the ironmen they had heard little in recent weeks, except that they were almost on the verge of civil war between various factions of the Greyjoy family. As for the Tyrells, if Tyrion's plans with Jaqen H'ghar went off as expected, soon they would not even have to worry about the Tyrells at all.

The gold had been delivered to the ship Jaqen H'ghar had named, in the middle of the night, by Bronn and Pod. While Bronn knew all about the plan, Pod knew nothing, and was just following his orders. The lad need not know, and if anyone asked him he could tell them nothing else except he and Bronn had taken a heavy crate to a ship and left it there. Bronn had been very put out that he had been duped by the assassin back at the house in the village, but when Tyrion had told him the new plan, he saw the wisdom of it.

"Just don't let your cunt of a sister hear about it," he warned Tyrion needlessly. "She'll say you are a traitor for dealing with that son of a bitch."

"Yes, she would only see my crime, not the wisdom of the plan," Tyrion had agreed. Now Bronn was gone south for a few days, to settle affairs with his wife and her family. He promised to be back within a week, and Tyrion already felt more vulnerable with him gone. Pod was behind him as always, but Pod was no Bronn. No one was.

Shae and Ser Wilfred were also leaving for Bronn's new holdfast to the south, today, and as soon as Tyrion was done here he had to go see them off. Shae and Ser Wilfred knew nothing of the plan with Jaqen H'ghar, having slept through all the drama of that night. The fewer people that knew, the better for all concerned. Now all he had to do was wait for Mace Tyrell to come begging for forgiveness. If Jaqen H'ghar managed to free his children, that is. And kill the red woman.

"It's cold," King Tommen said, bringing Tyrion out of his reminiscing. The King said it with a little whine in his voice. At least you aren't wet like those poor buggers marching off to war, Tyrion wanted to say but he only nodded. "Yes, my King, and it will only get colder."

"I don't like winter," Tommen replied. You have never seen a real winter, Tyrion thought. Tommen had been born at the end of the last winter.

"This is not winter, Your Grace," Ser Kevan told him. "Only fall. Winter will be much colder."

"It is time to make our farewells, my son," Cersei said suddenly. She turned to look at Ser Kevan. "Uncle, we look forward to your report on the army's victory."

"Of course, Your Grace," was all Ser Kevan said, his face betraying no emotion. She distrusted him and he disapproved of all she did, Tyrion knew. There was little love between them. Ser Kevan bowed to her and then to Tommen. "By your leave, my King. I must join the army."

"May the gods grant you victory," Tommen said and Ser Kevan thanked him and bowed once more.

"Fare you well, Uncle," Tyrion told him and Ser Kevan only grimaced, nodded once, and rode off to the army.

Saying goodbye to Jaime was harder. But in his usual carefree way he only grinned and bowed. "I promise you victory, my King," he said to Tommen. "Soon Stannis will be but a memory and the Iron Throne will be yours."

Tommen pouted a little. "Can't I come see the fight, Ser Uncle?"

"Most certainly not!" Cersei said strongly.

"Leave fighting to the warriors," Tyrion told him. "And when you are old enough we'll find a new war for you."

Tommen beamed. "Do you promise?"

"I shall do my best," Tyrion answered, and wondered if Tommen might not see battle sooner than that, with enemies still all around them.

Jaime made his goodbyes to his not-so-secret family, with Cersei tense as she wished him well, with Myrcella brave but with a quivering bottom lip, and with Tommen smiling and waving happily to Jamie and the army, thinking it all a great game.

Tyrion rode down to the moving river of men with Jaime. "I wanted to tell you something last night but it slipped my mind," Jaime said right away as they left the others behind. "Cersei asked me to send Gregor Clegane back to Casterly Rock."

"Why?" Tyrion asked, his sense of suspicion rising. Anything his sister did had a purpose, usually not good.

"She claims she wants him here to protect her and the children."

"There are more than enough men and the Rock's walls for that," Tyrion replied. "Does she not know that if the Clegane brothers are within a league of each other blood will flow?"

"I reminded her. She said Tommen would command them to stay their blood feud."

"Yes, Robert tried that and they near killed each other at Ned Stark's tournament I heard," Tyrion answered. Cersei was up to something and Tyrion decided to stop it at once. "As Hand of the King I command you to leave Ser Gregor where he is. He and his rage are needed on the battlefield, not guarding children."

"Agreed," Jaime replied. They were at the marching column by now, the cold drizzle falling on lords and commoners alike, making all feel miserable. If it continued or got worse there would be sickness in the army, Tyrion knew.

"Well, this is me," Jaime said with another dashing grin. Then his grin faltered. "Take care of them, Tyrion," he said. "If the Tyrells attack you, shut everyone up in the Rock and wait for us to return."

Tyrion decided he had to tell him. "It may not come to that. I have set in motion a plan to free Mace Tyrell's children from King's Landing."

Jaime's grin returned. "I knew you were plotting something."

"Tell no one but Uncle Kevan. It will give him more heart for the battle."

"Yes, more heart we need," Jaime said and Tyrion knew he was thinking on what had happened at King's Landing.

"Good luck," Tyrion told him and then Jaime made his farewell and was soon riding his horse amidst the marching column of men. As Tyrion was about to turn his horse, Lancel rode up at the head of his approximately one thousand recruits with the seven pointed star as their sigil. A septon rode by Lancel's side and their large banner was behind them, held aloft by two men riding side by side.

"Cousin," Tyrion shouted. "May the gods grant strength to you and your men's arms."

"The gods are in our hearts already, my lord," Lancel replied. "We will deal with that traitorous scum as we deal with all such who betray the true faith. With steel and blood."

"Yes. Good," Tyrion answered him. "Steel and blood. I like it."

Lancel rode on by without another word and Tyrion turned his horse around to ride back up to the canopy. Cersei and the children and their guards, Sandor Clegane included, were already heading back to the Rock. Pod was waiting for him as always.

"Come, we have one more farewell to make," Tyrion said and they headed south to the small village that was near where Lancel's camp once stood. Now it was an empty field filled with latrine pits, garbage heaps, and wooden stake barriers and ditches. "We will have to see to the cleaning up of these camps," Tyrion told Pod.

"Yes, my lord," the squire answered.

The rain started falling harder as they rode down into the village. Soon they were at the house and got off their horses.

"There is supposed to be a wagon here," Tyrion said, a bit puzzled. "Late I suppose."

As Tyrion started towards the door of the house Pod said one word and stopped Tyrion cold.

"Blood," Pod said.

"What?" Tyrion asked as he turned around.

"Here, on the ground, my lord," Pod told him. "Mostly gone, but still…" He dug his boot into the ground and Tyrion could see the traces of blood mixed into the grass and rain water.

Suddenly a cold hand seemed to grasp Tyrion's guts and he felt danger all around. "Get out your sword, Pod," he ordered and the squire did as he was commanded.

"Shae!' Tyrion shouted as he raced into the house, Pod right behind him. "SHAE!" he now screamed. He tore through the lower rooms and then ran upstairs. Her clothes were gone, her few bags as well. She was not here. Neither was Ser Wilfred. He came back downstairs and saw Pod in the kitchen.

"Stove is cold, my lord."

Tyrion touched the cast iron stove and knew no fire had been in it for some time now. The hearth in the living room was cold as well.

"Their clothes and belongings are gone," Tyrion told him.

"Maybe they left sooner than planned, my lord."

"No. Shae would not do so. Neither would Ser Wilfred. They knew I was coming today. You were there when I gave Ser Wilfred his orders yesterday."

"Yes, my lord."

"The blood," Tyrion said next and they went back outside. Now the rain was coming down harder and Tyrion had trouble finding the spot where the blood was. Something had happened here, something bad. There was only one way to find out.

He knocked on the first door next to the house, a cobbler's home, Tyrion remembered, and a young man and his wife with two small children were huddled inside. "No, my lord," the cobbler said with a bow, his eyes not looking at Tyrion. "I did not see anyone leave. Nothing strange happened."

They got the same answer at four more houses. Finally, at the sixth house he tried, Tyrion learned the truth.

An old woman opened the door and then she sighed heavily when she saw who it was. "Come in, my lord. I have been expecting you."

Tyrion and Pod entered the small one story home and felt the warmth of the fire in the hearth. "Please explain what you mean," Tyrion asked the woman.

"You do not remember me, do you, my lord?" she asked instead of answering him.

"Should I?" Tyrion asked impatiently.

"I was one of your wet nurses."

That took Tyrion aback. This woman had to be in her fifties or more, and had grey hairs and a wrinkled face which bespoke of a hard life. For certain he had wet nurses. His mother had died giving birth to him. But this old woman? Of course Tyrion was in his mid-twenties now so it was possible the woman told the truth and was his wet nurse when she was younger.

"You can hardly expect me to remember a teat I suckled on when I was a babe," Tyrion told her.

She grinned a bit. "No, my lord, I suppose not. But I served your house for many years after. You and your brother were always kind to me." Then her face turned grim. "Your sister…she was often cruel to all the servants."

"She has always had a way with making friends. Now come, tell me what has happened at the house."

She sighed heavily. "Ser Wilfred is dead."

Tyrion felt that coldness return to his gut. "How?" he asked and could not hide the fear in his voice.

"Your sister," said the woman with scorn in her tone. "She took the girl and Ser Wilfred tried to stop them. Her guards killed him and later some men took her to the castle."

"Gods," Tyrion could not help but gasp as his mind reeled with this news. "When?"

"Yesterday, late afternoon. They took her in the evening, after dark. I saw them take her, a sack over her head, her arms tied behind her."

"Why did they do this? What happened?"

"I know not. We heard a commotion and many of us came running. Ser Wilfred was already dying and they had seized the girl. Your sister told us to take Ser Wilfred and bury him quickly and threatened to burn down the village if we spoke on this. She got some of the army men to guard the girl. They are the ones who later took her to the Rock."

"Army men?" Tyrion said with building anger. "Which army men?"

"Those with the seven-pointed star," she said and spat in fire in the hearth. "They are no godly men. She told them the girl was a spy for King Stannis and they believed her."

Lancel's men, Tyrion knew. Did he have a hand in this as well? Now Tyrion's rage boiled over. "That blind idiotic fool of a sister!" he growled. "Shae is no spy!"

"They took her my lord. Gods only know what they have done with her."

Suddenly Tyrion felt sick to his stomach. He knew what Cersei would do. She would try to get some truths from Shae. Anyway she could. He had to act, and act now.

He thanked the woman and promised he would not reveal how he got this news. He and Pod raced outside and climbed on their horses. As they started to leave, Tyrion hesitated.

"Where to, my lord?" his squire asked.

Tyrion was at a loss. He had no support. Jaime was gone, many miles away by now. Bronn was gone, two days ride to the south. His Uncle Emmon was dead. Admiral Lefford was at sea on patrol. He had only Pod. He was Hand of the King though, and Lord of Casterly Rock. He had thousands of men at his command. It was time to exercise his power.

But…there were many buts, and this is was what made him hesitate. If he used that power to save Shae, then the whole of the west and soon the realm would know he had taken a whore for a lover. But he loved her, and by now Cersei most likely knew that. What else had Shae confessed to? Did it matter? He had to save her. There was no time to lose.

Then there was one more big but. Who did Cersei have on her side? And Jaime…what would he do? Scorn Tyrion for being so weak to take a whore in his bed? A whore who Cersei would say is a spy. Who would Jaime side with? His lover or his brother? He had to find out.

"Pod, ride like the wind. Catch up to the army. Find Jaime, tell him what is happening. Tell him to tell no one, to trust no one."

"Yes, my lord!" He was about to ride off but Tyrion stopped him.

"Wait! After you find Jaime…go to Bronn. You know the holdfast?"

"Seawind Tower, Lord Bronn said they call it, my lord."

"Good. Find him, tell him all you know." Tyrion tossed him his coin purse he always carried with him. "This is enough to see you south, but do not dally too long over your meals. Now ride!"

Pod took off to the north to try to catch Jaime. Tyrion turned his horse to the Rock and rode as swiftly as he could.

As he got to the main castle gates he got off his horse and found the captain of the guard. "Come with me. Bring ten men."

"Yes, my lord," the captain answered and soon the captain and his men were marching behind Tyrion through the corridors of the castle.

First things first. He had to confront Cersei. Shae could be anywhere in the castle. Cersei would tell him or…or what? He would come to that when he had to.

Outside her quarters were the remaining Kingsguards men, the Hound and Ser Preston and Ser Arys. That could mean only one thing. The King and Princess Myrcella were with Cersei. This was not good.

As the Kingsguard men saw Tyrion and his men approach they drew up in front of the door, blocking it. Clegane spoke for them.

"The Queen is not to be disturbed."

"I must speak with her on urgent business."

"What are these men doing here?" Ser Preston asked, his hand on his sword hilt as he stared intently at the men behind Tyrion.

"Guarding me," Tyrion replied. "You do know we have still not captured this assassin who killed your fellow Kingsguard man? With Bronn gone I am feeling a bit more vulnerable. Now, I wish to see my sister."

Clegane looked at the men behind Tyrion. "They stay here."

"Of course," Tyrion replied, trying to stay calm, and they let him in the room.

Cersei, Tommen, and Myrcella were at her dining table, eating lunch. As soon as she saw him and saw the look in his eyes she knew he knew.

"Well," Cersei said in a cold voice. "Uncle Tyrion is here. Care to join us?"

"No," Tyrion replied, barely keeping his anger in check. He turned to Tommen. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I need to speak with your mother alone."

Cersei spoke before Tommen could answer him. "Yes…it is high time we spoke. Children, it is time for your lessons anyway."

She called for the guards and the Hound entered. "Clegane, take the King and Princess to the maesters. Tell the other two to stay outside until I call for them."

"Yes, Your Grace. Come my King, my Princess," the big man said and soon they were gone.

As soon as the door was closed Tyrion vented his anger. "This will not stand! Release her at once!"

"Or what?" Cersei asked in a haughty manner. "What will you do, you lecherous little vermin? Arrest me? Throw me in a dungeon like a common criminal? I think not. I am the mother of the King, you should recall."

"Yes, you are," Tyrion said. "Shall we call him back and tell him his mother ordered a heroic knight butchered in cold blood and arrested a severing girl?"

"That old fool tried to attack me and my guards only did their duty," Cersei retorted. "As for the girl, oh, I know she is so much more than your just serving girl. Your whore. Your spy."

Tyrion took a deep breath. She had to see reason here. "She shares my bed, I do not deny it. But spy? That is ridiculous. You saw her in King's Landing! She helped save your son, who is now our King! She sat with him and comforted him when all you could do is rage at us all for not saving Joffrey!"

Cersei stood now and glared back at him in rage. "She worked for Varys! Spied for him!"

"A fiction!" Tyrion countered. "A lie Varys and I told so you would not think it odd the girl came with us."

"Why was it necessary to lie for her?"

"Father…it was because of Father. Shae has shared my bed since the Battle of the Green Fork. He found out, ordered her to stay behind. I…I could not let her go. So I lied, for her." It made him sick to explain himself to her but he had to try to make her see reason.

"Father is dead, Tyrion," Cersei reminded him in cold tones. "Was dead when you told me about this girl and her position with Varys. There was no more need to hide the truth from me."

"No," he said wearily. "I suppose there was not."

"It matters not now," Cersei said with a little smile. "You hid her away and now I know and soon everyone else will as well. Oh, I know why you hid her, lied for her, even after Father was dead. You are a great lord, the Hand of the King. It would not do for the realm to know you lay with a whore every night. Our grandfather did that and he was scorned throughout the realm."

"I do not need a Lannister family history lesson, thank you very much. Just tell me where the girl is and we will be done with this folly."

"She's in a cell. Awaiting judgment.."

Tyrion's anger began to build again. "Judgment? For what crime? Selling her body? Half of the world should be in a cell for that crime!"

"For being a spy!"

"I told you she isn't…"

"She confessed it all!"

"Because you tortured her?" he asked, hoping it was not true.

Cersei laughed. "No...there isn't a mark on her. She is smart this one. She told me everything before the gaoler could even pick up his whips. He was very disappointed. I think he rather relishes beating people. She spoke and spoke and answered all of my questions. All about you and her and the Green Fork camp and Harrenhal and King's Landing. Oh, we had a nice long chat. How Varys planned to learn our secrets and then go off to Stannis to tell him them all. How…"

"That is a lie!" Tyrion said.

Cersei raised her eyebrows. "Oh? How do you know it is?"

That took him aback. "What?"

"How do you know she is not a spy? Did you stay with her every moment of every day? Did you follow her everywhere in King's Landing or after?"

Tyrion could see what she was doing, trying to trap him with his own words. "She would not confess to something that was not true," was all he said. "She feared the torture, that is why she confessed."

"You did not answer my question."

"This is ridiculous. Shae is no spy. She…she…"

"Loves you?" Cersei said with a little laugh. "Yes, she admitted that as well. And now she hopes you will save her I suppose. But it is too late for that."

Cersei turned suddenly and went to her writing desk. On it were many pieces of parchment and inks and quills. She took up a letter and shoved it at Tyrion. He took it, feared what it was, and just closed his eyes for a moment after he had read it. It was Tommen's order to try Shae as a spy. Tyrion knew what he had to do. He tore it in two, and then four, and then eight, and dropped the pieces to the floor.

"You are not the only one who can rip up important documents," he said with scorn.

Cersei smirked at him. "The King is my son. He will sign another. He may even read it this time."

"I think it is high time I had a chat with our little King."

"I think not. GUARDS!"

Ser Preston and Ser Arys entered at once. "Yes, Your Grace?" Ser Arys asked after they dipped their heads to her.

"My brother is to remain here until I return."

"No," Tyrion countered at once. "You will keep the Queen Regent here until I return with the King."

It was a faint hope and it failed. They were Kingsguards men and they had no connection to House Lannister. Without a moment of hesitation they strode directly to Tyrion and stood in front of him, hands on sword hilts. "Best do as she orders, my lord," Ser Preston said.

Cersei did not even bother to wait to see if Tyrion would obey. She was gone.

He would obey. He had no weapon and no strength to counter these two giants in armor. But he still had his wits.

"Well," said Tyrion as he walked over to the side board and poured himself a cup of wine. "Isn't this a fine state of affairs." He sat at the table still covered in the lunch dishes. He picked up a piece of buttered bread and took a bite and washed it down with some white wine. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the two men who blocked the doorway now.

"You know, my sister is quite mad."

They said nothing. Time for another ploy.

"You know, she is fucking Ser Jaime."

Still they did not move or even twitch a facial muscle.

"The King…I mean King Robert…he never knew. But you did, didn't you? You two have been around the royal family for years. Surely, you must have known? No? Well, I can only imagine you said nothing to Robert because you hoped for a taste of that sweet spot between her legs for yourselves."

That got a rise out of Ser Arys. "That is a filthy lie, Imp!"

"Ah, so you do speak," Tyrion quipped as he drank some more wine. "Tell me, good sers, how does it feel to protect a lying whore and serve a regime built on quicksand?" They said nothing this time. "You know, if the army is crushed by Stannis, all our heads, yours as well, will be on spikes before long."

"The Kingsguard serves and dies for the royal family," Ser Preston told him in a solemn tone.

"Ah, like Ser Barristan did when he joined Robert? Like my brother did when he cut Mad Aerys' throat and also joined Robert?"

"They forsook their vows," Ser Arys said with anger.

Tyrion chuckled. "Yes, my brother has broken many vows. Yet I still love him. My sister, well…I think you know how we feel about each other. She is setting things in motion to remove me from power. And you know what will happen then, my good sers? All this will fall. She thinks she is wise. But she is not. She thinks she can rule again. She couldn't rule a brothel let alone the Seven Kingdoms. She despises all people, even you. She blames you lot for Joffrey's death."

"It was not…" Ser Arys began but then he stopped.

"Oh, yes it was," Tyrion said as he put down his wine glass and hopped off his chair and walked to where they stood as he talked. "You were there, Ser Arys. You did not kill him, no. But he died still the same. And that was your duty, to protect him, even from his own stupidity. She will remember. And when I am gone and Stannis is pounding on the gates, who do you think she will vent her anger on before the end comes? Those she hates."

After a moment Ser Arys looked at Ser Preston. "He is Hand of the King."

Ser Preston nodded once and stepped aside and Ser Arys followed quickly. "I shall not forget this, my friends," Tyrion told them as he raced outside. To his horror the captain and his men were gone. Cersei's doing no doubt. He turned back to Arys and Preston who had just come out of the room. "Follow me if you wish me to save your King and the Seven Kingdoms from my sister's folly."

They strode with purpose through the halls, heading to the maester's chambers where Tyrion knew the children were studying. As they walked Tyrion picked up more guards that were on duty. Soon he had about ten men following him.

Outside the maester's chambers stood Clegane. He snarled as soon as he saw Tyrion. "Be gone if you know what is good for you, Imp."

As he looked at Clegane the truth began to reveal itself inside Tyrion's mind. Now he was Cersei's dog, that much he felt was true. How? And then he had it. Jaime's words about his brother Ser Gregor. "I am what is good for the realm, Clegane. I know she ordered your brother to come here. I am now guessing he was your price for your loyalty."

"Piss on you," the Hound retorted. "You ordered me to leave Harrenhal before Gregor came. Robert and your father ordered me for years to stay away. I stayed away. Now I will have my vengeance."

Tyrion shook his head. "No…you left Harrenhal because the Princess commanded it. You left because she told you Sansa Stark would not want you to die."

Now the Hound's scarred face contorted in rage. "Do not bring her into this!"

Ah, a soft spot, as he suspected. "Sansa wants you to live."

"No…it matters not," the Hound said more quietly, his eyes full of pain. "It cannot be…never be…so I will have Gregor's blood on my sword. Or he will kill me. Either way, all my demons will be put to rest."

Tyrion knew he had lost him, for now. Gods, how stupid was he to let Bronn go?

At that moment the door to the maester's chambers opened. It was Cersei. "Let my brother in." She saw the many guards there. "All but the Kingsguard leave. Now."

"No," Tyrion ordered and the Lannister men with him stood their ground.

Cersei stared at him. "You wanted to speak to the King. Fine. But they leave."

Tyrion debated this in his head for a moment and then nodded once and ordered the guards to leave him.

Clegane stepped aside and Tyrion entered the room. The maester's chambers were big and roomy, lined with many bookshelves filled with volumes. There were two large tables and many chairs, the tables covered in books and parchments and ink pots. Myrcella and Tommen sat at one table, with Cersei hovering behind them. The maester was no where to be seen.

"Let me explain, Your Grace," Tyrion began but Tommen cut him off.

"Mother tells me you have been sleeping with a spy."

"A lie, my King."

"She confessed," Cersei said.

"She was tortured."

"That is the only lie here," Cersei replied. She went to the door, opened it. "Clegane. Bring the girl."

Cersei didn't even have to tell him where she was. So he is hers, totally. Clegane left and then they were alone again. Gods, Tommen and Myrcella are looking at me like I am guilty of a crime. He had to stop it, now. "My King…yes, I took this woman to my bed. But she is no spy. You must remember her. She held your hand when we left King's Landing."

That surprised Tommen. He looked to his mother. "Is it Shae?"

Good, he remembered her name. "Yes, my son," Cersei answered, a look of uncertainty in her eyes now. "But she has tricked us all, you and your uncle especially. She has been a spy for Lord Varys all this time. And now he is working for Stannis, our enemy."

Myrcella gasped. "Why can't they just leave us be?!"

"Because they want us all dead," Tyrion told them in a harsh tone and Cersei glared at him but kept silent. Now he softened his voice. "But know this, my Princess, my King. Shae is not a spy. I lied about her service to Lord Varys. To protect her because… because… I love her."

Tommen grinned broadly. "Then you must marry her."

The look of shock and horror on Cersei's face was priceless and Tyrion absorbed it and took it in and enjoyed because he knew what Tommen had said would never come to pass. Cersei quickly recovered and put an end to it. "She is a commoner and a confessed spy, my King. Your uncle is a great lord. He cannot marry her."

Tommen looked to Myrcella. "No, he cannot," she told him as well.

"Then what should we do with her?" Tommen asked, his question directed at Tyrion.

"Let her go," Tyrion said at once, unable to stop himself.

"Never," Cersei said through clenched teeth.

"Then banish her," Tyrion countered.

Cersei snorted in derision. "So she can crawl back to Varys and Stannis and tell them all the secrets you whispered in her ear as you lay in her arms. How stupid do you think I am?"

"Very!" Tyrion could not help but yell back. Before Cersei could counter him the door opened and Clegane came in, with Shae.

Tyrion almost gasped as he saw her. She was wan and shivering, wearing but a thin linen shift and leather sandals, her arms and legs bare. Her thick black hair was slightly damp and clinging to her head and her eyes were full of fear, not the love or even anger he was used to seeing there.

"My lord," she said quietly as she saw him. "Forgive me."

"Say nothing," Tyrion told her at once. He looked her over, her bare arms and legs and face and could only see some red marks on her wrists where they must have bound her hands, which were now free.

"Remove her clothes," Cersei ordered Clegane.

"No!" Tyrion said at once.

"My King," Cersei said to Tommen. "If she was tortured she will have the marks to prove it."

"Yes," said Tommen to Clegane and then Shae just did it herself, lifting the shift over her head in one swift motion, not shy at all and Tyrion would have grinned if the situation were not so dire.

She turned around and they could all see there were no marks on her body except those on her wrists.

"Put on your clothes," Cersei ordered and she did so. "You can see she was not harmed in any way."

"Are you a spy?" Tommen suddenly asked Shae and then Shae did something odd. She looked to Cersei. It was a slight movement of the eyes and Tyrion was not sure if he had seen it for a moment. But he had.

"I am," Shae said and Tyrion clenched his teeth to control his anger.

"Why do you lie?" he pleaded of her. "Why confess to a crime you are innocent of?"

"I am a spy," Shae repeated, her voice dull and lifeless, not full of joy and vigor as he always knew her to be.

"Did Tyrion know you were a spy?" Cersei asked and the question was so absurd Tyrion could not believe she was asking it. And then he knew her plan, suddenly, clearly, but it was too late.

"He knew," Shae told them and as Cersei made a little sound of triumph, as Tommen and Myrcella gasped in disbelief, Tyrion could only stare at Shae. She cast her eyes away and would not look at him

"Take her away," Cersei told the Hound.

"What has she promised you?" Tyrion asked Shae suddenly and now she looked at him and the look in her eyes told him it was true, that Cersei had made some sort of deal with her.

"I am sorry," was all Shae said as Clegane dragged her away.

"There," said Cersei, unable to control her smile. "She confessed. She was not tortured. She has pointed the finger at you."

Tommen was staring at Tyrion in shock. "Uncle…are you a spy?"

"Never," Tyrion said with vigor, unable to believe he was in such a ridiculous situation. "Stannis wants to kill me as much as he does you."

Tommen seemed uncertain but Myrcella came to his rescue. "It is so stupid. Uncle Tyrion is not a spy! He has done everything to help us, to protect us."

"Yes, he has," Tommen said and Tyrion sighed with relief.

"Thank you, my Princess," he said to Myrcella and gave her a little bow and she and Tommen laughed at him like they always did.

But Cersei would not let it go. "We must have an investigation, for the safety of the realm, Your Grace. And Lord Tyrion should be removed from his post as Hand of the King until he is cleared of any doubt of wrong doing."

Tyrion just stared daggers at her. "You will drag us all into the abyss if you stay this course."

"You are the one accused of spying, not I," Cersei countered. "My King, he should be confined to his quarters until we know the truth. We must be careful."

Tommen looked uncertain and then nodded once. "Yes…that will do."

It was too much for Tyrion to bear. "I am Lord of Casterly Rock! I will not be made a prisoner in my own castle!"

"The King has ordered it!" Cersei shot back.

Tyrion looked at his little King. "Tommen…I am yours, till the day I die. You know this to be true. I would never betray you."

Tommen hesitated again and looked with uncertainty to his mother and Tyrion knew he was lost. "If he is innocent then one day or two in his rooms should not bother him in the least," Cersei told Tommen.

The King would not look at him. "Sorry, Uncle."

Tyrion seethed, but knew Tommen was not to blame. Tyrion began to see what was happening. When Jaime was here, Tommen could challenge his mother and know Jaime would support him. Now…Cersei had her boy back.

Tyrion stared at her with all the anger and scorn he could muster. "Cersei…you will rue this day. Mark my words, I will make you pay somehow."

It was a rash statement he knew at once, his anger getting the best of him, and Tommen and Myrcella suddenly looked at him in fear. Cersei could only smirk. "We shall see, little brother."

Clegane was back by then and escorted him to his chambers by the King's command. As they were leaving Cersei ordered Ser Preston and Ser Arys into the room and began to give them a tongue lashing for letting Tyrion leave her rooms earlier. Maybe there would be need for more Kingsguards men shortly, Tyrion thought as he walked away.

"Where is she?" Tyrion asked the Hound once they were far from the maester's chambers and alone. She had to be close by, the Hound coming and going so swiftly.

"Fuck you," was all he said.

Tyrion bristled at the insult. "I am the Lord of Casterly Rock," he reminded him. It seems like he had to remind too many people of that lately. "Your house is pledged to House Lannister."

"I am Kingsguard, Imp. I do as the King says."

"The King is a boy!"

"Keep walking and shut your mouth."

"Shut my mouth? Listen, dog…"

The blow came as a shock, a hit to the back of his head and he was seeing stars as he sprawled on the floor. Then a massive hand picked him up and shoved him against a wall, his legs dangling in the air. Clegane's scarred, hideous face was an inch from Tyrion's.

"I don't like you, Imp. Never did, never will," he growled, his breath smelling of sour wine. "You talk and talk and never shut up."

Tyrion just stared at his scars. Those burns must have hurt like hell was all he could think of. And then he wanted to burn the rest of the Hound and watch him die screaming.

He said nothing and after a moment Clegane dropped him and Tyrion hit the floor and felt pain shoot through his stunted legs. "Move," the Hound ordered. Tyrion was slow to get up and the Hound grabbed him again and picked him off the floor and set him on his feet. Tyrion felt humiliated and knew for certain that the Hound would die screaming some day. But he needed him now, to help him turn the tables on his sister.

At his chambers Clegane took a look around inside. "Not to worry," Tyrion told him as he rubbed his legs while sitting down. "There is no where for me to go except out the window and into the sea. And it is a very long drop."

The Hound only grunted and looked around some more, then headed for the door.

"You know, Jaime told me that Cersei asked for him to order your brother to come back here," Tyrion said as the Hound was about to leave.

The Hound stopped in his tracks, turned and glared at him. "And?"

"And I told him to do no such thing. Your brother is needed on the battlefield. Jaime quite agreed with me."

"You interfere in things you know nothing about, Imp!"

"I know you want vengeance. I know he burned you. Is that all?"

"Isn't it enough?"

"Yes. I will grant you your vengeance…if you support me."

He laughed. "The Queen has already promised me this."

"She will never have the power to grant it. Ser Gregor Clegane is my sworn bannerman. I am head of House Lannister."

"For now."

Tyrion knew what that meant. "Even if I fall from power, my Uncle Kevan will succeed me, not Cersei. I have named him my heir until I have sons of my own. And you know what he thinks of Cersei. Your brother will always be kept far away from you. Unless you support me."

The Hound said nothing, only stared and stared, his scarred face making the stare more haunting, and Tyrion started to feel uncomfortable. "Well?"

"I hate you," the Hound finally growled. "All of you bloody Lannisters."

"Fair enough," Tyrion answered. "We are not a very lovable family. But you do realize that with my sister in charge again things will go as they went in the past."

Now he looked troubled. "Could be."

Tyrion seized on his doubts. "She has no friends. She makes enemies and is glad of it. She will lurch from folly to folly and blame others. She will hang them and lock them up as she already did when the Iron Fleet attacked. And when there is no one else to blame and Stannis is at the gates, she will turn on those close to her. Support me and I will see this war through, Stannis dead, his red whore dead, Littlefinger dead, and all of us back in King's Landing where we belong."

"I will tell you what I told your sister," the Hound said when Tyrion finished. "Gregor dies first, then I am yours."

"Done. I will send word to Jaime to change my orders."

The Hound only grunted, turned and left the room. He did not walk away, for Tyrion would have heard his heavy footsteps. A short while later Tyrion heard him talking to someone outside. Tyrion opened the door and the Hound was gone, replaced by two Lannister men.

"I am your lord," he told them at once, to test what they would do.

"Yes, my lord," said one, his manner very nervous. "Apologies. But the King is my ruler and he ordered you kept confined here…my lord."

Tyrion sighed. It was as he expected. He was weary of it all. He had set his plans in motion, so now he had to wait. "Fine. Then fetch me some wine, food, and some hot water. If I am going to be a prisoner in my own castle I had better make the best of it."

Soon two women came with buckets of hot water and filled his bathtub. Another serving girl came with food and wine and ale. Tyrion poured a glass full of wine, downed it, and filled it again. He slipped out of his damp clothing and crawled into his bath with wine cup in hand. As he soaked inside and out he thought and thought and thought.

Shae was the first thing he thought on. Why had she lied? What was that look she gave to Cersei? What had Cersei promised her? Her life, no doubt, for starters. Her freedom even. But for that Shae would have to condemn Tyrion. It was all Cersei's plan. To remove Tyrion, maybe even have him killed. Tyrion could see it now, dragged before the whole court, with Shae telling the whole realm how she and he spied for Stannis. Would they believe her?

Jaime and Kevan would not. Tommen and Myrcella already did not. But he would fall from power. How could they trust him after this fiasco? His grandfather had bedded a low, common woman and he was scorned and laughed at by the whole realm. Tyrion could just see his father's face, telling him he was done with whores. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps it was time to have a wife.

The thought of marriage brought up a very painful memory, of his wife, his lovely wife, who was not his wife, but a whore. And then came the additional painful memory of how they had ganged up on her in the guard's barracks, a place not too far from here. Every man had fucked her and Tyrion had taken her as well, as the men laughed and cheered and his father only sat and stared. Tyrion had been as drunk as the rest and as hard as the rest and took her like the rest. When he sobered up she was gone and he felt such shame. For days and weeks and months he brooded.

It wasn't until a year later that he could even think of taking another woman. Then one night he got drunk again and the urge was on him. One of his companions knew of a whorehouse in Lannisport. Tyrion walked in with his friend and the whores all cringed at the sight of him. All but one, a young thing with honey blond hair and a lovely smile. She took him to her room and laid with him. After she took his cock and his silver, they drank some wine and she told him to come back any time.

He did, and from then on he frequented whorehouses whenever possible. His father soon learned and there had been angry words. Then when he was sixteen Tyrion wanted to be far away from them all. He told his father he was a man now and he wanted to travel the Free Cities as his uncles had done at his age. His father said go, but expect no coin from me, now or ever after. Tyrion did not go. He had been shamed and his hatred for his father grew even more.

Then his father gave him a task since he seemed at loose ends. The sewers needed care, a fitting task for one who lived his life drunk and with whores, Tywin Lannister had said, and he was not jesting. The sewers Tyrion took on and he found that he was good at organizing workers and solving problems and to his father's surprise he made the plumbing work better than ever.

More thoughts came, of his life in the capital, his life of ease and pleasure. Wine, books, and whores were plentiful and he wasted years indulging in all three. The realm was at peace, Robert sat the Iron Throne, he had good men to advise him, and Tyrion was not needed by anyone. For a time he felt satisfied with that life, with no worries, and with all his passions well sated. But soon he began to desire more, to do more, to take part in things. When Jon Arryn died and Robert decided to head to Winterfell to ask Ned Stark to be his Hand, Tyrion knew he couldn't be left behind. Jaime saw that he had a place in the entourage. If only I had been satisfied with my life of leisure and had stayed in King's Landing, he now thought, then much madness and carnage would have been avoided.

Tyrion's wine cup was empty and his bath water cold. He crawled out of his bath, dried off and changed into fresh small clothes, breeches, and doublet. He sat at his table and ate and drank and thought some more. As he poured some more wine there was a commotion outside.

"Get out of my way or die!" shouted a familiar voice. His door opened and Tyrion smiled. It was Jaime.

"Gods," his big brother said after he closed the door. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"

"Oh, the usual," Tyrion answered. "You know I could never stay away from whores. Pod found you, I take it?"

"Yes. Five miles away. The boy insisted on going after Bronn right away so I sent four men with him to make sure he gets there."

"Thank you," Tyrion said with relief, glad to have someone on his side.

Jaime's armor was wet and his hair was lank and damp. He undid his sword belt, took off his gauntlets and sat and ate and drank some. "I have heard Cersei's version of these events. Now tell me yours."

As Tyrion filled him in, Jaime continued to eat the bits of food remaining on Tyrion's tray. When Tyrion finished his tale Jaime sat back and gave him a puzzled look. "All this time you have been bedding this girl and you never told me?"

"I thought you would not approve."

Jaime grinned. "Why not? I seem to recall she is quite lovely." Then his grin faded. "Cersei means to try her as a spy."

"I know."

"This is not good Tyrion. The girl will tell the court how you told her secrets in bed, how she passed them on to Varys and Stannis."

"All lies," Tyrion said wearily.

"Cersei said she already confessed this to you and Tommen."

"She did," Tyrion admitted. "So there is no need for a trial. Shae…" Saying her name made it hurt more but he pressed on. "Shae has made some arrangement with Cersei."

This surprised Jaime. "What arrangement?"

"I know not. But they did not torture her. There was not a mark on her body."

Jaime raised his eyebrows. "Really? But surely you know there are ways to torture someone without leaving a mark."

He did not. "Tell me."

"Water," Jaime said. "Hold her head underwater long and often enough and she will soon spill her secrets."

"Gods, you may be right." Her hair had been wet and she had been shivering. How could he have been so stupid not to think on that?

"Cersei means to try her tomorrow. Publicly, in open court."

That surprised him. "So soon?"

"Cersei is already telling everyone about you and your…woman. An open trial will shame the whole family, I told her, but she insists."

Tyrion snorted. "Shame the whole family? Haven't you and Cersei done enough to shame us for generations?"

Jaime's eyes flashed with anger for a second but then he only grunted. "Yes, I suppose we have. But you are Hand of the King. You cannot survive this scandal. Luckily they cannot take away your title as Lord of the Rock as well."

"I am innocent."

"I believe you, Tommen does as well, even Cersei knows you are no spy. But you kept one who says she is a spy in your bed. For many months now. Cersei means to drag you down. She will say you cannot be trusted anymore. She wants you out of any decision making position."

"She will bring us all to ruin."

"I know," Jaime answered heavily. "I have tried to talk sense to her. She only screamed at me that you are to fault for the assassin coming after us, you are to blame for her children almost getting killed, you are the cause of…of…"

"Our mother's death?"

Jamie sighed. "Yes."

It always came back to that. "What should we do?" Jaime asked.

Tyrion snorted. "Shave Cersei's head and give her to the septas."

Now real anger was in Jaime's eyes. "That will never happen."

"No…of course not. A jest, brother. A poor jest."

Jaime let it pass. "Again I ask…what should we do?"

Then it came to Tyrion. "Tommen. You will convince him. He will listen to you."

"I…I have already tried. He was with Cersei. He…said Shae confessed."

"It's all lies!"

"I know. But they say she must be punished."

Tyrion gulped. "How?"

"There is only one punishment for spying."

"NO!"

"Tommen said no as well."

Tyrion's heart skipped a beat. "He did?"

"Yes. Shae helped him escape from King's Landing. He will stay her execution because she helped him once. But he said she must be punished in some way. Cersei suggested a public flogging and a walk of shame and then a life of prayer and forgiveness with the septas."

"Gods, no," Tyrion almost wailed. It was exactly what their father had done to the common woman their grandfather had kept in his bed.

"Tyrion…they say you love her."

"I do," he confessed.

"Then if you do, you must accept this punishment. It will be hard, but at least she will live."

Tyrion knew he was right. "Then so be it."

"I am sorry. There is nothing more I can do."

Tyrion suddenly had a mad thought and knew what Jaime could do. "You can rescue her."

"No."

"Jaime…please. Bronn is too far away. There is no one else. I need you."

"I…I cannot go against Cersei in this. Nor Tommen. I have done all I can to convince them to let this matter go but they will not. You will certainly not be Hand. Cersei actually suggested I take it once more."

"You must!" Tyrion said at once.

"My place is with the army," Jaime told him. "I must go."

"When?" Tyrion did not want him to leave.

"Now."

Tyrion sighed. "She will bring us to ruin," he said again.

"Not if we defeat Stannis. Not if your plan frees the Tyrells to be our allies."

Tyrion nodded in resignation. "Then so be it."

Jaime rose from the table. "I am sorry, little brother. I truly am."

"You are not to blame. It all goes back to my weakness for whores," Tyrion said.

"What?"

"My…my wife. You remember her?"

"Tysha," Jaime said quietly and there was a strange look in his eyes.

He knew her name. How odd he remembered after all these years. "Yes…Tysha. She was a whore, you may recall."

Jaime said nothing but stared at him for a long moment, seemed about to speak and then stopped and only said. "I must go."

"Of course. Go. Save the realm and all that, while I sit here and await my fate."

"Cersei will not harm you," Jaime said with conviction.

"She may. She hates me."

"I would never forgive her if she did."

Tyrion felt an immense sense of gratitude. "Does she know this?"

Jaime nodded. "She does now. I just told her."

"And…and what did she say?"

"She said you will not be tried or harmed if you resign as Hand of the King."

She wanted him gone, no matter what. Her hatred would ruin them all. Tyrion said nothing as Jaime buckled on his sword belt and picked up his gauntlets.

"There is one more thing before you go," Tyrion said to Jaime, suddenly remembering. "The matter of Gregor Clegane. I changed my mind. I do wish him to return."

Jaime seemed puzzled by this change. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"To protect Cersei and the children?"

"Not quite. The Hound is in Cersei's pocket."

Jaime grinned. "You want him in yours so you offer his brother's head?"

"Yes."

"And if Ser Gregor kills the Hound?"

"Then I will be rid of a possible enemy and have a monstrous madman to protect me. Ser Gregor is my bannerman after all. I win either way."

"That is why you should be Hand of the King," Jaime said. "It will be done."

"Good. Farewell, big brother," Tyrion said quietly.

"You as well, little brother." And then he was gone once more.

The trial for Shae was held the next day at the noon hour. The whole of the great hall turned throne room was filled with the lords and ladies of the Rock in all their finery. Most were woman, with a few men who were too old or young or infirmed in some way so they were not in the army or at sea. I should send the lot of them off with spears in their hands and their wives to the kitchens to scrub pots, Tyrion thought, as he took in all the smug looks of satisfaction on their faces as they stared at Tyrion as he waddled into the great hall. He had no friends here. Ser Emmon Frey was dead, Admiral Lefford was with his fleet, Jaime and Ser Kevan were with the army, Bronn was on his honeymoon, and Pod was off trying to find him. He had no friends… except his Aunt Genna.

"This is a travesty," she said to Tyrion after she greeted him with a warm hug she made sure many saw. "You are the Lord of the Rock after all!"

"Yes, I still am," he said to her quietly. "They cannot take that away from me until I am dead. So not to worry. Some day there will be a reckoning and all those here will know I am my father's son."

Genna smiled. "I hope to see it." She lowered her voice some more. "Tyrion…I may have some good news.

"Yes?"

"After Jaime left you last night…he did not leave for the army right away."

"No?" Stayed to fuck Cersei, Tyrion guessed. But he was wrong.

"He visited Tommen, alone, in his bedchambers, and spent a long time with him."

"How do you know?"

"I saw Jaime before he left, and he said to tell you all would be well. Tommen would take care of it. He also said something odd. He said a Lannister pays his debts and that he owed you…but he would not explain it."

Before Tyrion could ask anything about the cryptic message, Genna was distracted and looked up.

"Ah, here comes the King," she said. Then her face curdled in distaste. "And your sister."

Everyone got down on one knee as Tommen entered with Cersei and Myrcella and the Kingsguard. Sandor Clegane as ever was near Myrcella, her sworn shield. His scarred face was impassive, and Tyrion wondered if would really support Tyrion if Tyrion brought Gregor Clegane back to the Rock and the Hound managed to kill Gregor. He had no way to know and had to chance it. Gods, he wished Bronn was here.

Tommen told them to rise and he took a seat on his throne with his sister and mother sitting next to him. Tyrion took a lower seat next to Myrcella, far away from Cersei as he could get. Myrcella smiled at him and for some reason Tyrion felt reassured by it. He knew she and Tommen were being manipulated by their mother as much as these simpering fools in front of them were.

But Tyrion knew he could not hope to save his position as Hand of the King. The scandal was too great. Shae would lie and they would all suck it in and believe every word. Not because they thought it true, but because they wanted it to be true about Tyrion. He had two black marks against him already, and neither one he could do anything about.

He was a dwarf and that was his first black mark, being born as such. The gods had a hand in that, and his whole life he had been mocked as such. They did not see his father's son, nor a lord of a great family and castle, nor an intelligent well-read man who had done all he could to save their stinking hides. No, they saw a dwarf and nothing else. Dwarves were not lords and leaders. They dressed in motley and scampered about like fools. But not this dwarf. He had stuck his head up too high. Now they meant to trim it a bit. Or maybe a lot.

The second black mark was killing his mother when he was born. Cersei loathed him because of it and his father could never love him because of it. And now Cersei was his enemy for life and she was poisoning the minds of all those here. Her lust for power knew no bounds and she wanted his position. Well, she could have it.

After Jaime had left him he tried to sleep but could not, even after drinking more wine. He wondered where Shae was and what they were doing to her. He hoped Pod would reach Bronn soon. He hoped Jaime had managed to calm some of Cersei's rage. And finally after brooding and thinking for half the night, it came to him. Tyrion had suddenly decided that he was through with them all. He would remain as Lord of Casterly Rock. But he would resign as Hand without a fight if asked. He would take part in no councils or offer any advice. And if Jaime and Ser Kevan did not defeat Stannis, then only the gods could save them, not Tyrion. For by that time he would be long gone, sailing away to somewhere else. He would find Shae, forgive her, and leave Westeros forever. If Bronn and Pod wanted to come they were welcome as well.

But now he set most of these thoughts aside and wondered what Aunt Genna's message from Jaime had meant. He owed him? How? If anything Tyrion owed Jaime, for loving him when no one else would. As he thought on all this Shae was brought forth by two guards. She was still dressed in her shift and sandals. A hush fell on the court. Suddenly, one old noble lady screamed "Traitor! Whore!" and the air was filled with venomous insults directed at Shae, mainly minor variations on 'traitor' and 'whore'. A title and fine clothing apparently did not come with an imagination or the ability to turn a phrase.

Two guards flanked her as they walked in front of the throne and all three fell to one knee. Tommen told them to rise and the trial began. Shae held her head down, contrite, and Tyrion could not help but think on their discussions back in Harrenhal when she had begged him not to come here. If only he had listened to her. Now she would pay the price for his hubris.

The trial lasted less than half the noon hour. Cersei questioned, Shae answered as she had done the day before, and the crowd gasped and awed and many gave Tyrion evil looks. Oh, yes, he thought as he looked back, unflinching, I will remember who you are. When Cersei was done, and had a smug look of satisfaction on her face, King Tommen stood and spoke, and it was clear Cersei had rehearsed him.

"Lord Tyrion," Tommen said. "How do you answer these charges of treason against you?"

Tyrion stood, getting ready for a long speech justifying his actions. "They are false, my King, I…"

But he never finished. "Very well," Tommen said. "I believe you, Lord Tyrion. You may sit."

"Ah…thank you, Your Grace," a stunned Tyrion said as he sat again.

The crowd was as clearly shocked as Tyrion was by this turn of events. Genna was grinning, while Cersei seethed and now stood as well. "He must answer the charges, Your Grace. He must tell us all about his life with this whore!"

"Shae has already done so, Mother," Tommen said, and Tyrion detected a hint of backbone in his words. Jaime's doing no doubt. Thank you, brother. "Uncle Tyrion is not a traitor. He is trying to help us win the war. He hates Stannis like we all do. The trial is done."

"The trial is not done!" Cersei shouted to her son. But she forgot he was learning to become a King as well as her son. Tommen was still a boy, but Jaime had been instilling some courage in him of late and now it showed.

"The trial is done," Tommen said once more in a louder voice. Cersei looked to argue, but faltered, and knew she had lost. The sight of the King and his mother arguing in front of the whole court would make a scandal all on its own.

"Of course, Your Grace," Cersei said, as if suddenly realizing she was being foolish. She was soon all charm again. "What is the verdict?"

Tommen turned to the assemblage. "I find the serving girl Shae guilty of being a spy."

"Hang her!" came a shout and more such shouts followed.

"Burn her, like Stannis does!" came another shout and Shae paled visibly and Tyrion wanted to rush to her side but did not.

Tommen raised his hands for silence and the guards that lined the walls pounded their spear butts on the floor until the crowd settled down.

"I have decided to not execute her because she saved my life at King's Landing," Tommen said to them all.

Not exactly true, Tyrion thought, but he wouldn't dare interrupt his King now.

"If she is not to die, I suggest forty lashes and the walk of punishment," Cersei said next, the suggestion sounding rehearsed.

"No," said Tommen and Cersei's smug look fell as the crowd shouted for more blood.

"She must be punished!" Cersei whispered fiercely to Tommen loud enough for Tyrion to hear.

Tommen nodded. "Yes, Mother, she will be punished." After a few moments there was silence again. "Shae? Look at me."

"Your Grace," Shae said as she looked up and went down to one knee again.

"Starting tomorrow you will become a septa," Tommen announced in as loud a voice as a boy his age could make. "And keep a vow of silence for three years as punishment for the crimes you confessed to."

"Your Grace is merciful," Shae said, her voice choking, tears flowing down her cheeks. Her words were heard by all in the dead silence of the room.

Now that that was done Tommen looked at a loss as to what to do next. Instead of looking to his mother he looked to Tyrion and Tyrion could not help but feel some triumph.

"Take her to her cell and bring her hot food and proper clothing," Tyrion told the guards and they led her away. As she left Shae gave Tyrion a sorrowful look and silently mouthed "Thank you" and then she was gone.

She should save her thanks for Jaime, Tyrion knew. It was his doing, all his.

"We are done," Tommen told the court and people began to bow to him and make their leave.

"No!" Cersei said quickly and many people stopped and waited to hear what would happen next. Oh, this was lovely, Tyrion thought, here we are once again looking like a pile of bickering fools. Cersei wanted a scandal, and here was the makings of one.

"What about Lord Tyrion?" she demanded. "He cannot remain Hand after these accusations. "

"He has done nothing wrong," Tommen told her. Tyrion could have kissed him at that moment. Tommen turned to him. "Uncle, will you remain as my Hand?"

"Yes…most certainly, Your Grace," Tyrion said. He turned to look at the crowd and all those smug faces now looked worried and they quickly bowed again and started to move to the exits. Good, you should be worried, Tyrion thought to himself.

After it was done Tyrion retired to his rooms to freshen up and was just thinking on going to find where Shae was held when Cersei came to his rooms. He was sitting and pulling on his boots and remained where he was, not even bothering to stand up. He also did not even offer her a seat and she didn't ask.

"What do you want?" he asked in an impatient tone.

Her eyes were full of hate. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked in turn, his tone all innocence now.

"Turn my son against me in a night."

"I had nothing to do with it," he truthfully told her. "In fact, I was all ready to resign as Hand if he was lenient with Shae."

"He was. You should resign."

"Ah, but you miss the point, Cersei, like always. Tommen was lenient without my offer to resign. So I see no need to do so."

She glared at him. "I will still tear you down."

He shook his head sadly. "Yes, and you have been such a success at it so far. Let's recap, shall we? You found my woman, you…"

"Your whore, you mean."

"Yes, whore, she is at that. You found her, tortured her…"

"I did not!"

Tyrion did not believe her, but let it go. "Then what did you offer her to lie?"

Cersei smirked and did not even claim that Shae had not lied. "Her life, followed by a passage to her homelands across the Narrow Sea after a suitable time as a septa had passed. After I offered all that, your little whore was so eager to talk I barely had the questions out my mouth before she was answering."

He could see what she was up to now. "You think to cause rancor between me and her, then by all means try. You forget that she is going to be a septa. I will never see or speak to her again after tomorrow."

As he said these words it suddenly dawned on him that it was all true, that he would never see or speak to her again. His face must have betrayed his emotions for Cersei only laughed.

"Good. But I am sure you will find another whore to fall in love with. How many would that make? Three? And when it happens, I'll be waiting." With that she was gone.

Tyrion sat and drank and brooded for a while and lamented his lost loves. Tysha was long gone, he knew not where or even if she still lived. And Shae. Starting tomorrow she wouldn't be able to speak for three years. He had to see her one last time. But where was she? He was Lord of the Rock. He would soon find out.

He had barely left the section of the castle where his rooms were when to his surprise the Hound was coming toward him.

"What is happening, Clegane? Why aren't you at your post?"

"The Queen sent a message to the septas to take the girl today,' the Hound quickly said. "The King heard her give the order and then commanded me to take you to the girl now. So you could say goodbye."

Thank you, Tommen. "Lead on."

As they walked the Hound suddenly spoke. "What word about Gregor?"

"Your brother is coming," Tyrion told him and the Hound grunted and it sounded like satisfaction.

"When?" he asked.

"I told Jaime to send him once he reaches the Golden Tooth. Less than half a moon's turn I expect."

"Good," was all the Hound said. He suddenly stopped at a door. "In here."

It was a small servant's room, nothing more. Tyrion opened the door and Shae was there, sitting on a bed, in a lilac dress, and two guards were inside as well, by the door.

"Leave us," Tyrion told the guards. They hesitated.

"Piss off!" the Hound snarled at them and they moved quickly and were gone. The Hound looked at Tyrion who only had eyes for Shae. "Make wise use of your time…my lord."

"Thank you, Clegane." Maybe he wouldn't kill him after all.

The door closed and then Tyrion rushed to her side and hugged her and she cried and told him how sorry she was and begged for forgiveness.

"There is nothing to forgive," Tyrion told her. "You are alive and well, and that is what matters."

"I could not help it," Shae said.

"Did they torture you?"

Now her face grew hard, the way she always was in the past when angered. "Yes. They held me upside down in a barrel of water. It was horrible! Your fucking sister asked questions and when she didn't like my answers the gaoler put me under the water! I want that fucking gaoler killed!"

"Done," Tyrion said. It would be his first order to Bronn when he returned. Then he remembered something. "Lancel. What role did he play in your capture?"

"He took me to the castle," Shae answered, her eyes hard. "I told him to find you, to tell you, that you would fix things. But he is such a coward! She told him I was a spy and Stannis' red god would win and he believed her. I want him dead!"

"He is my family, Ser Kevan's son."

"Then punish him some way, flog him, cut off his manhood and feed it to the goats. I don't care."

"Speak no more of it, it will be done." He crawled on the bed beside her. "Come, my lady, we don't have much time."

He kissed her and felt her body tense up and then she relaxed and soon they were lost to their passions, if only for a short time.

They were no sooner done when the Hound knocked on the door. "They are here for her. The septas," he said through the door.

"Keep them out until I say so."

Shae dressed quickly and Tyrion did as well. He then took her hands and kissed them perhaps for the last time. He tried to kiss her lips as well but to his surprise she backed off.

"Don't," she said as she pulled away. "It is over, my lovely lord. You must forget me."

He struggled to hold his emotions in check. "I will always love you."

"You must forget!" she said in her hard way. "You must marry, a good woman, not a whore! A real lady this time!"

"You are a real lady," he answered, his voice cracking.

"No. I am a whore who betrayed you to save her own skin," she said and now tears were falling from her eyes. Her voice cracked as she spoke her last words to him. "I am not worthy of you…my lord."

Before Tyrion could speak there was a commotion outside. "He is the fuckin' Lord of the Rock and the Hand of the King, you old wind bag!" the Hound shouted. There were some muffled words Tyrion could not hear. "I piss on the Seven!" the Hound yelled next. "I even call my horse Stranger! Now, the next one who goes near that door loses a fuckin' hand!"

Tyrion sighed. "It is time."

He opened the door. Five women in septa's garb stood there glaring at the Hound. The eldest looking one looked to Tyrion. "This man is a raving beast, my lord. He defamed the holy Seven, threatened us, and used foul language in our presence. He should be punished for his insolence!"

"Yes, he should, septa," Tyrion answered. "But he is my beast, and I have many others, who all follow my orders. If I told him to kill you all he would."

The septas all gaped at him, and looked in fear at the Hound, but said nothing more.

"Come, Shae," Tyrion said and Shae and he left the room.

"So this is the whore," said the elderly septa in a disapproving tone.

"Next one who uses that word loses more than a hand," Tyrion growled. "And if I hear that this lady is being unduly punished or harmed in any way, I will send my beasts to kill you all."

"You defile the Seven with such threats!" answered the old septa in shock.

Tyrion laughed. "Defile the Seven? Look at us! I said look at us!" He screamed the last and they all looked. "Do you think the gods love us two? The twisted dwarf and the scarred giant? No, they have forsaken us. So, when I make a threat, I carry it out, even against those who serve the Seven. Do we understand each other?"

The septa stared at him in anger and then just nodded once. "Yes, my lord." She looked to Shae. "Come…child."

Shae started to walk away, her head bowed low, and Tyrion's anger left him all at once and he could not help but say it once more. "I love you."

She stopped, lifted her head for a moment, but did not turn and look at him. She then continued walking away without a word.

He and the Hound stood there watching them go until they rounded a corner. "Sandor Clegane," Tyrion said when Shae and the septas were no longer in sight.

"Yes….my lord?"

"I know you hate me."

"I do."

"I care not for you, either."

"I expect not."

"But now I want you to do something with me."

"With you?"

"I want you to get drunk with me. So stinking drunk that we'll piss our breeches and fall down in a gutter and not even care."

"I know a good whorehouse in Lannisport."

"No. I am done with whores," Tyrion told him. "I have loved two and they have brought me nothing but heartache. Have you ever been in love and lost that love?"

The Hound did not speak for a long moment and then spoke one word. "Yes."

"Then you understand. Casterly Rock has the finest wine cellars in the land. And if you feel the need for a whore after, I will gladly pay for it."

The Hound grunted. "I am still not your man until Gregor dies."

"Of course. But you are no longer Cersei's, are you?"

The Hound spat. "Piss on her. Never again."

"Good. Let's get drunk, shall we?"


	17. Chapter 17 Hot Pie

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 17 Hot Pie**

Hot Pie was heading north after all and it was the last place in the world that he wanted to go, especially now. For a few days he actually thought his life would get better. King Stannis had chased the Mountain's men away from Harrenhal, the King and his army made camp outside its walls, and Hot Pie and the other former servants of the great castle were safe and given new positions serving the King's army. Hot Pie baked bread in the morning and evening and also made cakes and other sweets at night for the King's lords who had delicate tastes. For once in a long time he had plenty to eat and felt secure and safe in the midst of so many armed men. And he had Sheila.

She had kissed him that night as they stood looking towards the flames of Harrenhal and she had kissed him a few more times since then. He kissed her back and it was grand and exciting to be falling in love. She was wonderful and for a few days Hot Pie went around walking on air, good-naturally taking the teasing and ribbing from his fellow tradesmen and servants about his woman. Hot Pie had barely counted fifteen names days and Sheila was the same age yet he was thinking of asking her to be his wife already. There were no septons with King Stannis' army, however, so he put that thought aside for the moment.

King Stannis had no need for septons, he and the others quickly learned. Most of his men followed their new god, whose name Hot Pie could not say properly. The Lord of Light he was also called, and every night the men built fires and prayed and the beautiful woman in red that rarely left the King's side chanted prayers with them. Hot Pie was scared of her, and so were the men, he could tell, even the lords.

"Don't be going talking about her," warned the head baker to him his first day when he asked who she was. "She's the King's red woman and that's all you need to know. Keep your head down and make the bread and no one will bother you."

But Hot Pie couldn't keep his head down. He had already spoken to King Stannis once. And now the King wanted him again. Hot Pie came when the King's squire found him and then he spoke to the King once more and learned that his nightmare was not over yet. He was ordered to head to the Wall and join the Night's Watch.

Hot Pie stumbled from the King's large tent, led by his squire again, his mind reeling with what he had been just told. Then he felt a sudden warmth in the air.

"We need to speak, baker's boy," said the red woman and she led him to her tent. Hot Pie remembered little after that. She offered him a cup of tea and he took it, thinking to refuse would not be good. After a few sips of the warm tea, it was all a blur. She was talking and he was talking, but what he said he later could not remember. When she was done he was led to his tent by someone and he slept for a long time and woke up with a pounding headache. A rough voice and strong hands shook him more awake. It was the baker, demanding he get up and come make the evening cakes and bread. Was it evening already? No, late afternoon, he could tell from the light outside as the baker dragged Hot Pie outside his tent by the arm.

"Piss off," Hot Pie told him with a sleepy growl as he jerked his arm out of the baker's rough grasp. Now he was so mad at the world that he didn't care what he said or to who anymore.

The baker glared at him. "What's the matter with you, boy? Been in your cups? It'll come to no good, mark my words. Wine never did any man any good."

"I'm not drunk," Hot Pie said in exasperation. The baker was a good man, and Hot Pie felt bad for insulting him. "Sorry. Just…the King…he ordered me to go to the Wall."

"What?" said a voice in shock and Hot Pie turned and there she was, holding a bundle of clothes, which Sheila dropped to the ground as she gaped at him. "The Wall? Why?" she wailed.

"You dropped the clothes," was all Hot Pie could think to say to her as he stooped to help pick them up.

"Leave them be. They're to be washed anyway," she said to him and she touched his shoulder and he stood up. "What's happening?"

Hot Pie could not even look at her. "The King...he said I'm a thief…and…and…I promised to go to the Wall and join the Night's Watch for my freedom. So…I must go."

"No! He can't do that!" Sheila said, her face distraught. The baker, who was still there, spoke up.

"Don't say a word against the King!" he warned in a fierce whisper. "If he says the boy must go he must go." He laid a hand on Hot Pie's shoulder and gave him a look of sympathy. "Sorry, lad. You've got the know how to make a great baker some day. I'll make you a few loaves and some cakes for the trip."

"Thanks." With that the baker left them alone.

"It's not fair," Sheila said as she started to pick up the clothes. "Not now. Not you. Not when…when…we just…"

Hot Pie had bent to help her and their hands touched by accident. She grasped his hand and held it tight and looked at him with that same look he saw the day he killed Polliver.

"I…I will miss you," she said and a tear rolled down her cheek and she scooped up the last of the dirty clothing and then ran off with them.

"Sheila!" he shouted. "Sheila!" But she did not turn around or come back. Hot Pie wanted to chase after her but felt it would do no good. He was leaving and that was that.

He went to the bakery wagons and the baker said nothing, only grinned and nodded to him and handed him an apron. Hot Pie was busy kneading the dough on a table with the other baker's apprentices when the King's squire came and found him. "Come," he said. "We must find you a horse for the trip."

The squire was a boy who looked no older than Hot Pie, maybe even younger, but he carried himself as if he were a lord. He walked with his head held high and with a purpose and people got out of his way. They knew he was the King's squire, Hot Pie guessed, and so did not bother him much.

"I'm Hot Pie," he said and then felt stupid cause the squire had been in the tent when the King had talked to Hot Pie early today.

"I know who you are," the squire replied. "I'm Devan Seaworth."

Hot Pie had not heard that name before. People with last names usually came from noble families. "Seaworth? Is it a noble name?" he blurted before he could think how stupid the question was.

"Yes. My father is Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand to the King."

"Oh."

"He is also called the Onion Knight."

"That's an odd name." Damn. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut?

"My father is a great sailor," said Devan in a strong tone. "He was knighted for bringing in supplies of onions and fish and saving King Stannis' men at the siege of Storm's End. So King Stannis made him a knight and he took as his sigil an onion so everyone calls him the Onion Knight. And now he is the King's Hand."

He spoke with pride of his father. Hot Pie could barely remember his own father, who died when Hot Pie was a boy.

"What did Melisandre want?" Devan asked him suddenly.

"Mel…who?"

"The red woman." He called her that without any fear, unlike the others in the camp.

"I don't know. She asked me a lot of things but I can't remember."

"Oh." And he seemed puzzled by this answer but did not press him anymore on what had happened.

They kept walking and then Devan asked him something odd. "Who do you worship?"

"The Seven," Hot Pie said before he could stop himself. He knew the Seven were not the gods of King Stannis or the red woman.

Devan stopped and so did Hot Pie. The King's squire looked at him intently. "The Seven are finished, Hot Pie. The Lord of Light is the one true god and the only god we need. He will show us the way and keep the forces of darkness at bay."

"Ah…sorry. I don't know much about all that."

"Come to the fires tonight. You can worship with us. And then carry the word of the Lord of Light to the Wall."

"Yes. I will come," Hot Pie said, knowing it would be bad to refuse. You couldn't refuse a king or his squire. In fact, Hot Pie was so low in the world he thought he couldn't refuse anyone.

They were at the horse lines by now where all the lords and knights and squires kept their horses. Hot Pie was a city boy and knew nothing about horses except high folk rode them, they shit everywhere, and they would kick and bite if you got too close. There were many large fierce looking war horses here, and smaller ones he knew that were riding horses. But they walked past all of these lovely horses and came to a spot where six really old and ugly looking horses were. It was nearby the butcher's wagons, and close by in a large corral were many cows and sheep and pigs, in three separated fenced off areas. Next to the corral was a long row of chicken coops. The animal noise and stench was overpowering here.

"Are…are we eating horses?" Hot Pie asked in horror as he looked at the butcher sharpening his blades and while two men were holding the nearest horse steady. He had had some meat stew two days past and it had tasted a bit strange.

The King's squire laughed. "Only those that are not good enough for riding anymore. Horse meat is not fit for lords and knights, mind you, just the soldiers and servants." He looked to the butcher. "The King says I'm to take four of these ugly brutes and give them to some men going to the Wall."

The butcher shrugged. He was a big, bald man in a bloody leather apron. "King says so, then so be it. Take them. Though these old nag might not make it to the Wall. The Twins, maybe."

Devan selected four horses and then picked up one of the bridles that had already been taken off and were lying on the ground. "Help me," he told Hot Pie.

"I don't know how."

"What?" said Devan. "You ever ride a horse?"

"No," Hot Pie admitted. "Rode a donkey, from King's Landing to Harrenhal."

"Oh…right. You were with Lord Stark."

"That's right. And his daughter and Gendry."

"Gendry…yes, I've heard of him. I heard the King say he is his brother King Robert's son. Bastard son."

Well, that was no secret anymore. "He's my friend," was all Hot Pie said as he looked at the horses. "Which one you reckon is the best?"

Devan peered at the four horses he had selected. "This one," he said after a moment, putting his hand on a roan, a mare it turned out, that had seen better days, but still looked fresher than the other three. Devan started to explain how to put on the bridle and saddle. Soon they had all four horses saddled and took them to the horse lines to get some water and hay. Devan told Hot Pie to get on the horse and gave him a few lessons and soon Hot Pie had the basics.

After they were done, the sun was setting to the west. Devan looked that way and stood for a long time. "We have to go west soon," he said, his face bathed in sunlight. A chill was in the air and Hot Pie felt cold.

"Which way is west?" he asked, shivering a bit.

Devan looked at him like he was stupid as he pointed at the setting sun. "That way. The sun sets in the west. That's where the Lannisters are."

"Oh, right," Hot Pie said. "I knew that."

Devan looked at him with some pity in his eyes. "Do you even know how to get to the Wall?"

Hot Pie gave him a sheepish grin. "No."

"I suppose those other three don't, either. All smallfolk. Can't even read. Come."

They went through the camp again, Hot Pie on the King's squire's heels. Soon they were near a large pavilion. Through the open door flaps Hot Pie could see a table with many chairs around it and papers on it. It seemed empty now but two guards were standing outside the door flaps. Devan walked right past them and they didn't even move to stop him. Hot Pie warily followed and they blocked his way.

"Step back!" growled one.

"He's with me," Devan said from inside the pavilion and they let him in.

Devan had a map rolled out on the table and beckoned Hot Pie to bring a lit lamp closer.

"Right," Devan began, pointing to the map. "This is north, south, east and west. Understand?"

"Yes." North was the top of the map, south the bottom, east right, and west left.

"We are here, Harrenhal," Devan said next, pointing to a large black castle-like drawing. "This is Gods Eye and here is the Trident. You should go to the Ruby Ford, here, to cross the river. The Ruby Ford is where King Robert killed Rhaegar Targaryen. You will cross here and ride up the Kingsroad all the way to Castle Black, up here."

Hot Pie saw where he was pointing and he wondered how far it was. "That looks like a long ways."

"Yes, it is. Maybe a moon's turn travel time. You go past the Twins, and then there is the Neck, mostly swamps except for the road I heard. Camp on dry ground where you can. Watch out for snakes and lion lizards. Then there is Moat Cailin. Lord Stark's men took it from the ironmen so there should be no problem there. After that, Winterfell and then the Wall."

Hot Pie looked at the map and its words he could not read and shook his head. "How do you know all this?"

"I studied with a maester and the King's daughter at Dragonstone."

"The King has a daughter?" Hot Pie asked in surprise. He had never heard that before.

Devan looked a bit wary as if he had said too much. "Yes…nevermind that. Do you know where to go?"

"North on the Kingsroad."

"After the Ruby Ford."

"Right."

"How do we cross the Trident?" Hot Pie asked. It looked big on this map, a thick line of blue paint, wiggling its way to the ocean.

"It's a ford. That means the water is low here."

"We can ride across?"

"Yes."

"Then the Twins, the Neck, the Moat…Moat…"

"Moat Cailin."

"Right. Moat Cailin. Then Winterfell…and the Wall."

They talked a bit more and after they were done it was now dark outside and they stepped out of the pavilion. Many people were moving toward the middle of the camp where the red woman held her nightly bonfire after sunset each day. Soon Hot Pie and Devan were there as well and Hot Pie got to see the red woman first hand bring the crowds of soldiers and lords to a high pitch of religious fever. In the midst of her chanting she seemed to be on fire herself, glowing in the fire's light, her eyes ablaze as she stared into the flames and her face went through a series of contortions that looked to Hot Pie like fear, and horror, and what even seemed like joy.

Hot Pie was not that impressed though it was a good show. He cared not for this new god any more than the gods he already knew. They never did Hot Pie any good. They took his father away, then his mother. They let bad men throw him out in the streets. They made him into a thief and then they did not look out for him when he got caught. He thought the gods were with him once more when Yoren came recruiting for the Night's Watch. But that also ended in misery as Yoren and many others died and they had to flee. Harrenhal wasn't bad at first but then Lord Stark and Arya and Gendry left, and then Lord Tywin and the Imp left, and the Mountain made life hell for everyone.

As he stood there thinking on all this he felt someone take his left hand. It was Sheila. "Come with me," she whispered and he was happy to leave.

"I'm sorry," she said before he could. "I…I shouldn't have run off."

"I'm sorry, too," he told her. "I'm so stupid. I should have kept my mouth shut about King's Landing, and being in prison and volunteering for the Watch and…and…

"It's too late now," she answered sadly. "Let's make the best of this last night."

They walked hand in hand through the camp towards where the servants had their many tents set up. Sheila went to a tent and returned in a moment. She had a skin filled with ale and she drank some and gave it to Hot Pie who drank as well. They sat on the ground and talked about their lives and handed the skin back and forth and drank. Hot Pie was feeling fine from the ale and was glad he was with her on this last night of freedom.

"Have you ever been with a…a…girl…a woman?" she suddenly asked in the darkness.

Hot Pie gulped. He knew what she meant. "No."

Sheila said no more and took his hand and dragged him to the nearby tent. Some blankets were on the ground and before Hot Pie could say a word she was taking off her dress and small clothes and shoes. In the dim light of the nearby fires filtering through the tent walls he could see her naked body and his heart thumped and he thought it would explode. She stepped toward him and kissed him full on the lips. She tasted of ale and sweetness and love.

"Get undressed," Sheila whispered in his ear.

Hot Pie suddenly felt embarrassed and did not want to be naked in front of this wonderful girl. She somehow sensed his hesitation.

"I want you," she said to him as she kissed him once more.

"But we aren't married."

She looked up at him and then hung her head low. "It matters not," she said quietly. "I'm no maiden, Hot Pie."

He did not know what to say but she kept on speaking. "They took my maidenhead, Polliver and two others. It was…it was awful."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" she said fiercely as she looked up again. "You killed him, that animal! And now…I want a man…for real. Someone who wants me…for me."

"Gods, yes," he said, and he thanked them for once in a long time, and when she started to unlace his breeches Hot Pie lost all his fears and started to quickly get out of his clothes. He was soon down to his small clothes and then he wore nothing at all. She took his hand and pulled him down on the blankets. She held him close and told him what to do and soon they were doing it and it was soft and warm and wonderful and over all too soon.

"Sorry," he mumbled, catching his breath, as he lay next to her, thinking she had not as much pleasure as he had.

"Don't be," she said in a soft whisper. "You will learn."

"No…I won't," he said in the darkness. "That man Yoren, the Night's Watch recruiter. He said they ain't allowed woman."

"What?"

"No women."

"Never?"

He sighed. "Not ever…but…I think he said something about whores in a nearby town."

"Stay away from whores, Hot Pie," she warned him. "They carry filth between their legs and will make your manhood fall off."

"Gods no!" he said in fright and she laughed and then he laughed as well and she kissed him again.

"You will be my first and last," he said to her and she gasped and kissed him harder. Hot Pie was soon lost to her touches and after a while they were love making once more and this time he was sure she had as much enjoyment as he did.

No one else came to the tent that night and later Hot Pie wondered if the other servants knew they were in there and told everyone to leave them be. They stayed awake half the night talking and laughing and holding each other under the blankets. They made love one more time in the morning and then it was time to say goodbye.

"I must drink some moon tea," she said as they got dressed.

"Yes," he replied. He knew what moon tea was. He did not want her burdened by some unwanted baby. A baby he would never see.

He held her close one more time. "I…I love you," he said and he meant it, truly meant it. He hardly knew her, but she was so beautiful and nice and kind and wonderful and he knew it had to be love.

She sniffled. "Gods…I love you, too," she said, and she hugged him tight and Hot Pie gulped and held back his tears. She looked at him, her eyes suddenly intense. "I want you to stay."

"I can't."

"Then I will come with you."

"You can't. There are no women allowed on the Wall."

"Then we will run away together!"

He stepped back from her and held her by the arms. "Sheila…the King hangs deserters. The Night's Watch hangs deserters. Do you want me to die?"

"No," she said in a mournful tone. "I know it's crazy…but…I lost my mother…then my father. And now you."

"I won't be lost. You'll know where I am."

"Hot Pie…I heard it from one of the girls who serves the lords. They say that there is a war at the Wall."

"What? Who's fighting?" War here, war there, war everywhere. Couldn't he ever escape it?

"I don't know," she said and then sighed. "Right. You have to go. And I have to stay. I knew it was a faint hope. But you be careful. And dress warm. The Wall is cold they say and winter is coming."

Hot Pie chuckled. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"No, it's not funny. But Lord Stark…he said that a few times. Winter is coming."

"You will stop at Winterfell," she suddenly realized. "You will see Gendry and Lady Stark, you…"

"Arya, not Lady Stark. She hates that name."

"Right. You will see them. Maybe…maybe Arya's father can keep you in Winterfell? You were supposed to go there anyway, you said. He promised to take you into his service! You don't have to go to the Wall!"

She was all excited and Hot Pie brightened for a moment and then realized it was foolish. Lord Stark served King Stannis and would not go against his orders. But he didn't say so to Sheila. "Maybe."

She smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes. "When you are settled you send for me. I will come to Winterfell and…and…"

"Be my wife?" he asked with hope in his voice.

"Yes, gods, yes," she said and she kissed him again. Hot Pie knew it was a slim chance of any of it happening and but he would not ruin her good mood.

"Then it will be done," he said and felt bad for lying to her. Or was it a lie? Could he actually get Lord Stark to let him stay in Winterfell? He would only know when he got there.

She promised to come say goodbye to him before he left as he headed for the baker's wagons. He got his few belongings out of his tent and then said goodbye to the baker. The baker gave him three loaves of fresh, warm bread and some sweet cakes and an old cloak.

"It's not much but it will keep you a bit warmer," the baker said as he tied the cloak around his shoulders. Hot Pie thanked him just as Devan came along and told him it was time. Hot Pie made his goodbyes and followed Devan to the horse lines. Devan had a sack of food for him, with some dried mutton and fish, two skins of ale and some more bread and some apples and cheese. He also had a short sword and a dagger for Hot Pie to carry north with him.

"I didn't see you after the prayer session was over last night," Devan commented as they walked.

"Ah…had to make some goodbyes to people I know."

Devan said nothing more on the subject of his new god and Hot Pie was glad. Soon they were at the horse lines. The King's squire introduced Hot Pie to the three thieves he was to travel north with and then the King's squire said good luck to him and left them in charge of a knight who was to see them out of the army camp and on their way. The three men were already looking over their old and ugly horses, and two of them were cursing the miserable mounts they had been given.

All three were much older than Hot Pie but not so old as to be grey haired. They all had long swords and daggers, and wore studded leather armor with surcoats with the flaming heart of the Lord of Light. Heavy cloaks draped over their shoulders.

One was tall and strong looking. He had brown hair and a short beard and also had deep brown eyes that looked very sad. He said his name was Royce and he was a farmer from nearby Rosby, which Hot Pie knew was close to King's Landing. The second man was short and squat, but muscular, not fat, and he had a broad face, clean shaven, with a smile that was a grin and showed no teeth, though he did have teeth. He had short black hair and blue eyes and he said his name was Jason, and he was from the Reach, once a tanner's apprentice to a lord for the green apple Fossoways. The third man had shaggy blond hair, and he was thin and of average height. He was not very pleasing to look at, with a scraggly drooping mustache, a long sharp nose, and small beady eyes that he cast about in a furtive way, as if expecting someone to attack him at any moment. He talked fast and in a gruff manner and only told Hot Pie his name was Maron and said nothing else.

They thought Hot Pie's name was funny and Maron and Jason called him a fool for volunteering for the Wall.

"I volunteered because I was in prison for thievery and wanted my freedom."

"No more fool than us three," said Royce with a heavy sigh.

"True," said Jason and he gave a grin of all lips and no teeth. "Guess we're all thieves here."

Royce gave him a dirty look but said nothing.

"Best be off," Maron said next, his eyes darting about. "Before the King changes his mind."

"Yes," said the knight in charge. "Let us be off. The army is leaving today and I must be with it."

The three men and the knight started to mount their horses and Hot Pie was about to do the same, thinking Sheila was not coming, when he heard a yell. "Wait!"

Sheila came running toward them and then she was there and she ran into his arms and kissed him quickly. "I have something for you," she said and she thrust a small piece of cloth into his hand. It had a heart shape sewed on it in red yarn and some words in red in the middle.

"What is it?" he asked, ashamed to say he couldn't read.

"It's our names…Sheila and Hot Pie…inside a heart."

"Gods," he said in awe. "It's great."

"I was making it for a patch for my pillow case…but you can have it."

Hot Pie gulped his thanks and kissed her once again.

"Come on!" said Maron with a gruff growl.

"Let him be," said Royce sharply. "It may the last time they kiss."

Jason laughed. "Her or anyone else. No women where we're going, lads."

Finally, Hot Pie had to break the kiss. He whispered he loved her once more and she did the same. "Send for me," she whispered and he nodded and then she started to cry again. He hugged her one last time and then she turned and ran away.

Hot Pie barely remembered mounting his horse or leaving the camp. He was in a daze, from what had happened last night, from her kisses, and from the fate that awaited him.

The knight left them soon after they left camp. He offered no advice except to say they were lucky the King didn't hang them all. When asked where they should go he at least was good enough to point in the general direction they should go, saying the Ruby Ford was a little more than a day's ride. It was a cold grey day and to their amazement it snowed a bit, but it didn't last long and soon melted on the ground. Hot Pie had never seen snow before and thought it was a wonderful.

"It's so beautiful," he said as a flake landed on his cheek.

"You won't be saying that when we get to the North," Maron warned him.

They made good time that day and when it started to get dark they set up their tent they carried and Royce got a fire going. They had some good food that night, boiled salted mutton, soft bread, some apples, and even a few cakes Hot Pie shared with them.

After Maron and Jason went to the tent to sleep, Hot Pie and Royce lingered by the fire.

"I'm not a thief," was the first thing Royce said to him in a low voice.

"I thought…"

"Those other two," Royce said in a even lower voice, seemingly eager to explain. "They're to blame. We were in the same company of spearmen. We work in threes, spearmen, helping each other, making camp, getting food, cooking, and so on. These two fools wanted some wine but didn't tell me what they were up to. They said some lord had asked us to do some work by the supply wagons and so I went with them. They told me to wait in a certain spot and they would find out what we had to do. So I waited and the next thing I know these two fools are being arrested for stealing and I was dragged along because I was their mate and I was close by. They told the King they had duped me but he's a hard man, as you know."

"Yes."

"He said I should have stopped them or questioned them more and so I am equally to blame. He had us flogged a bit, and wanted to cut off our hands but Maron, he begged for the Wall, so the King was merciful. So here we are."

He looked toward the tent and spat. "I would have killed them two except then I would have been given the rope for certain and never see my family again." He sighed heavily. "Now I may never see my family again anyway."

"You have a family?"

"Wife and two children, boy and girl. Boy has my name, as I have my father's. They're near Rosby, on a small farm. I should be there, not here." He sounded angry and lonesome at the same time.

"Why did you join King Stannis' army?"

He snorted. "Join? There was no 'joining'. Ser Cletus came along to my farm and said I must come to the capital and do my duty for the realm. He already had ten men with him and we picked up more on the way. Only for short time, he promised all us 'volunteers'. Said King Joffrey needed good men."

"King Joffrey? But…"

"Yes, King Joffrey. They shoved me and the others into the gold cloak ranks, gave us a bit of armor, but no fancy cloak. They put a spear in my hand and said this is the way you point it and kill any man we tell you to. That was my training. Me and a bunch of other fools. The Imp's man…what's his name…"

"Bronn?"

Royce looked across the fire at him in surprise. "Yes…how did you know?"

"I met him and the Imp on the way to Harrenhal."

"Ah…well, so this Bronn fellow tried to teach us a bit more, but there was no time. So King Stannis attacks King Joffrey and you know how that went. We fought and the wildfire blew up and hell came to King's Landing."

"I heard it was bad." Hot Pie could not imagine the city he grew up in reduced to ashes.

"Very bad," Royce said with a sigh. "Flea Bottom is gone, the Sept of Baelor in ruins, much of the Street of Steel as well. Many walls and gates damaged…and so many dead. But I lived. They took all us prisoners before the new King. He says join my army ranks or be damned. So I joined. First job for my new King, fighting fires. Then burying the dead, then cleaning the streets. Then fighting the Lannisters again. After that, they left. Then, we march to Harrenhal. Now here I am, going to the Wall."

"At least you're alive."

Royce laughed a bit. "Yes, at least I am alive. And some day I mean to return to my family."

"But…the Night's Watch kills deserters." That was something else he remembered from Yoren's talk.

Royce nodded. "So they say. I know nothing of the Watch or the Wall. I'm just a farmer." Then he paused and sighed. "At least I was." Now he looked troubled. "I've killed men."

"So have I," Hot Pie confessed without meaning to. Why did he say that?

"I heard."

That surprised Hot Pie. "Heard what?"

"The army is big but stories fly fast, my new friend," Royce told him. "They say a baker's boy who speaks with the King killed a Lannister man and protected a girl."

"I did."

"The same girl that kissed you goodbye?"

"The same. Sheila."

Royce said nothing for moment and added another small log to the fire. "Did it trouble you to kill him?"

The question startled Hot Pie for he hadn't thought much on it. "No…I guess not. He was…he was attacking her. So…I stabbed him."

"Then you did good," Royce said. Hot Pie waited, wondering if Royce would talk about how he killed a man, but he didn't. "Go get some sleep," the farmer turned bitter soldier told him. "I'll keep first watch."

In the morning it was raining heavily and they got good and wet. By the time they reached the Ruby Ford it was a deluge and they found the Trident flowing at full force.

"You'll drown if you try to cross," one of Stannis' men who had the duty guarding the ford there told them.

"Especially if you try to cross on those old nags you're riding," said another with a laugh.

At first the knight in charge of the ford guards thought they were deserters but Maron went to his saddle bag and took out a rolled up parchment and told the knight he needed to speak to him alone in his tent. He came out a few moments later, and he shoved the parchment back in his saddle bag. There was no more talk of them being deserters after that and Hot Pie wondered what the parchment said. Maybe it was Stannis' orders to tell people to help them get to the Wall. Such a thing would be good to have.

They stayed there for the rest of the day and the next day the waters in the ford weren't any lower. "Maybe the water horse at Lord Harroway's Town is your best bet," the knight told them.

"What in Seven hells is a water horse, good ser?" Maron asked.

"A ferry, a boat," the knight explained. "It's shaped like a horse's head on both ends so the locals call it a water horse. When you get to the other side be careful. There's mountain tribes from the Vale that come raiding sometimes."

The rain had let up a bit so they started off again and reached Lord Harroway's Town by early afternoon. The men who ran the ferry wanted money for passage and they had none.

"Then bugger off," said the old man in charge, with six strong looking fellows standing behind him.

"We're volunteers for the Wall," Royce told them.

The man in charge spat. "Then why ain't you in chains? And why you carrying arms and wearing armor? I've seen plenty of men going to the Wall in my day. No one volunteers for the Wall. They're dragged there."

Maron grew impatient. "Look, you lot, we're on the King's business," he said as he dug in his saddle bag and took out his parchment.

"Can't read," said the man. "None of us can and we ain't about to bother the lord or the septon so piss off."

"That's the King's sigil!" Maron shouted as he pointed to the parchment. The man stepped closer and peered at it and looked uncertain.

"You know what King Stannis does to those who disobey his orders?" Jason said with a toothless grin. "If he don't burn them or cut off their hands or hang them, he sends them to the Wall. Like us. Care to come along?"

That did it. "Right," said the man in charge. "On you go."

Hot Pie's heart quailed as they crossed the great river. The river was high and threatening to flood the town and the ferry rocked back and forth in the waters. But the men manning the ferry said it was only half as strong as it would get later on when the real rains came. It would be even worse in spring when all the snow melted.

Only Royce and Hot Pie thanked the ferrymen when they got to the other side. Jason ignored them and Maron scowled and rode on without a word.

"Have fun at the Wall," one man shouted to their backs and Hot Pie wished once more he had never stolen that apple in King's Landing.

The east bank of the Trident was high and dry and they made good time, and by day's end they had a nice little camp set up and full bellies of dried meat, bread, and cheese. But they made no fire and during the day and after they camped they kept a wary eye to the rolling hills to their right, which led the way into the Vale.

"Them Mountain Men of the Vale are a brutal lot," said Jason grimly after they ate their cold supper, sitting outside the tent, huddled under their cloaks to ward off the chill of the night air. "When I was with the King on the road from Storm's End they attacked our baggage train. Killed a hundred men and boys and raped all the women and took some with them."

"They won't hurt us," Hot Pie said with confidence. "I know some of them."

"The hell you do," said Maron in disbelief.

"Burned Men, Stone Crows, Painted Dogs. Moon Brothers, and Black Ears," Hot Pie said as he ticked the names off on the fingers of one hand.

"What's that?" Jason asked in equal disbelief. "How you know them names?"

Hot Pie told them. "They rode with the Imp when he took me and Lord Stark and Arya and Gendry to Harrenhal." Hot Pie hadn't known them exactly but Hot Pie had been around them a lot at Harrenhal when Lord Tyrion the Imp was in charge. He was sure if he told them he knew the Imp they would let them be. If they gave him time to speak that is.

But Maron suddenly seemed less interested in the Mountain Men and more interested in his time at Harrenhal. "So…this Gendry…and Lord Stark and his daughter. They were all with you in Harrenhal?"

"Yes, but they are in Winterfell now. I guess. I hope I see them soon."

"Friends of yours?" Jason asked.

"Yes…I mean, Gendry is. Arya, I mean Lady Stark…well, she's a lady so…maybe not my friend so much."

"There is that," said Royce quietly. "Smallfolk and high borns should not mix, I always told my wife. She served at the lord's table in Rosby before we were married. I got her out of there soon as we were wed. Every knight and lord in the place had nothing but eyes for the young serving girls, even the one's already married. Wanting only one thing."

Jason laughed. "Like all men. Even the pie boy here."

"Was she as sweet as pie?" Maron asked Hot Pie with a leer.

"What? Who?"

"Your woman, they mean," Royce said, a dangerous tone now in his voice. "Leave it be you two or I will forget my vow not to kill you for getting me into this mess."

Maron looked to say something back but then grinned and laughed. "Right you are…Goodman Royce." He turned back to Hot Pie. "What about the bast…Gendry? What's he like?"

"Gendry? He's a good man. A blacksmith. Strong as an ox."

"Strong is he?" Maron asked intently.

"Yes…I saw him kill a man with his hammer on the road to Harrenhal."

A look passed between Maron and Jason but they said nothing. "Leave it be," Royce said to the other two. "Get some rest. I'll take first watch."

As he lay down Hot Pie wondered why they wanted to know about his travels and his friends. Maybe they were just asking to talk on something, he thought, as he let his weary body fall asleep.

The next day they came to a strange place. A large mound of dirt had been raised in a field next to the Kingsroad. On it was planted a painted wooden sign but none of them could read it. Nearby they found bits of broken armor, daggers snapped in two, broken spear points and a few dented, rusting helmets.

"Was a battle here," said Jason as he picked up a broken helmet.

"What river is that?" Royce asked as he looked to the left.

"Still Trident," said Hot Pie. "Ain't it?"

"Trident has three main forks," Maron told them. "This must be the Green Fork now."

"Then this is where Lord Tywin fought the Northmen," Jason said.

"And this is a burial mound," Royce guessed as he stepped back from it and eyed it uneasily.

Jason's face blanched. "We ain't making camp here." No one disagreed and they moved further north.

And so it went each day. They traveled as much as they could and made camp at night. They passed through a few villages and one large town but had no coin for rooms in inns. Their food began to run out and they asked for some and only when Maron threatened them with the King's justice did they get it and it was not very good fare. Winter is coming, don't you know, everyone they met told them, and they knew it now. It was getting colder each night.

About seven days after leaving Harrenhal they came up a hill on the Kingsroad and in the far distance across rolling farmland to their left was a high, square stone tower next to a river. Then could also barely make out a second tower and they knew this was the Twins. They had been in Lord Walder Frey's lands for some time now, the whole surrounding area paying homage to him. It was off their intended path but Maron said they had best go there and get some food and fodder and rest for a few days.

But their effort was wasted and they lost a full day riding there and back. One of Lord Walder's sons met them at the gates and heard their story and didn't care one bit, even ignoring the King's seal on the parchment. "We have no extra food for criminals heading to the Wall," he said. "Not with winter coming. Good day."

"Read it, my lord," Maron said, almost pleading, holding out the parchment.

"Good day," was all the Frey man said as he turned his back and the guards on duty fingered their spears and sword hilts. Unlike with the smallfolk they could not threaten a lord or a lord's son in his castle so they gritted their teeth and turned back to the Kingsroad.

More food they got from smallfolk and the horses found grass by the side of the road, but they still had to tighten their belts and dreaded the next part of the trip, the Neck. Hot Pie warned them of Devan's words and they hesitated before going up the narrow pathway between the swampy lands on either side.

But their worries were for not. As they were about to head north a party of men came out of the swamps and approached them.

"Stay calm," Royce warned them and it was good advice as the party was a group of crannogmen, well armed and with more numbers than they had. The crannogmen were here to help travelers up the road, as per orders of their lord Howland Reed, they said. Two men came with them and for the next six days helped them up the road, telling them what plants to avoid and what ones they could eat, how to camp at night so snakes and lion lizards would not bother them, and how to catch small lizards and frogs in the swamp. Hot Pie later thought they would have died if not for these two men. After they emerged from the swamps they came to the triple towers of Moat Cailin and thanked the crannogmen profusely for their help.

The White Harbor men manning the towers at Moat Cailin were friendly but had few supplies for travelers, even for those bent on taking the black under King Stannis' command. They let them rest for two days there and when they were leaving gave them some hard bread, salted fish, and a few apples and a skin of ale for each man. That was all they could spare. "Winter is coming, don't you know?" said their commander, a knight pledged to White Harbor. But he was kind enough to give them better boots, cloaks, and fur hats and gloves for the trip, and later Hot Pie knew that this gesture had saved his life.

For winter did come, in all its fury as they headed north. The first storm hit them when they were two days north of Moat Cailin. The snow started in the early morning and by midday the dim glow of the sun was gone, the skies were dark, and the snow kept coming down. It was a light snowfall at first, big, soft, heavy flakes that melted as they hit the ground. But it grew in intensity and the flakes built up and soon their horses were slipping and having trouble getting a footing on the Kingsroad. A cold wind began to blow by evening and they had trouble putting up their tent and building a fire. The next morning the snow was piled up around their tent and one of the horses, Jason's, was dead.

"Butcher him," said Royce right away and no one argued as they knew not when they would find food again. They got out their daggers and cut long, thick strips of meat from the horse's flanks and hindquarters. They fried some of the meat on sticks over the fire that they built up once more. Hot Pie was reluctant to eat it at first but then tried it and found it very tasty. As they ate they argued on whether to wait here for the storm to let up or push on to Winterfell.

"Pie boy," said Maron in his gruff voice. "You said you saw the map. Where is Winterfell now?"

Hot Pie was not sure but gave an answer anyways. "Maybe two or three days ride."

"We best go before anymore horses die…or us," said Jason.

They agreed to push on, with Jason taking turns riding double with the others. They cut more meat from the dead horse and filled up two canvas bags with it.

But the storm did not let up and if it wasn't for the trees on either side of the road they would have lost the road for certain in the growing whiteness of the landscape. The wind blew straight down the road into their faces, making life more miserable. More than once Maron cursed King Stannis and said bugger him and the Wall. When he said that Jason told him to hold his tongue or bugger off if he wanted to, as there was no way he was leaving and taking a chance on King Stannis finding out he deserted. The King would give them to his red woman to burn if they got caught, Jason warned the others..

"Better to die of the cold than in her fires," Royce added and Maron grudgingly agreed. They had all heard the screams of Lannister prisoners burning at King's Landing, Royce later told Hot Pie.

That day they only made half the usual distance, Hot Pie guessed, and they had trouble getting a fire going with the damp wood they found. But Royce's skill with flint and steel came through and finally got it going and they ate some of the last of their hard bread, and fried some more horse meat.

As they sat around their fire savoring the smell of frying meat they heard a growl from the nearby forest.

"Wolf!" Hot Pie yelled as he saw a large grey beast come loping towards them. In a moment all of them were up, pulling out their swords. Jason grabbed a flaming stick from the fire as well and brandished it towards the wolf.

"Be gone!" he yelled and he waved the flaming stick and took a step towards the animal. It growled and snarled but it soon backed off and let them be and was soon gone from sight.

"We best keep watches tonight," Royce said and no one disagreed. "The wolves are hungry as well."

The storm went on for two more days, and each night they heard wolves in the forest and saw them more than once but the wolves did not bother them as long as they had a fire. Soon a second horse died of the cold. It collapsed on the Kingsroad as Maron barely jumped clear of its back, cursing the whole time. They cut its throat to hasten its death and then butchered it as well. They were hardly away from the carcass when wolves came down to the road and attacked the remains.

The last two horses were scratching at the snow to get to the tuffs of grass underneath and were having trouble getting nourishment. Then one more died, Royce's, and before they could strip the meat from it and get a fire going a large pack of wolves came howling out of the nearby forest and they had to scatter and leave the horse for the ravenous wolf pack.

They stacked their last supplies on the final horse, Hot Pie's, the best one, Devan had said, and his words proved true. But she was not strong enough and with the snow still falling and they're being little vegetation for her, she grew weaker. Two more days of snow came and they struggled to make even a five miles a day.

The snow stopped the next day and the sun came out for most of the day, but with the blue skies came a biting cold wind from the north that soon turned the snow on top to ice, making walking through the more than knee deep white stuff painfully slow. Hot Pie's horse struggled to keep up and then it finally just laid down and it was done.

"Cut her throat," Royce told Hot Pie gently. "She won't be getting up again."

Hot Pie gulped and took out his dagger. As he placed it on the horse's throat he mumbled, "I'm sorry." He made a deep swift cut and soon the hot blood was gushing out of the wound and staining the snow red. The horse's eyes almost seemed to be saying thank you as she died. They cut his horse up as well and got away from the carcass as soon as possible to avoid any wolves.

They made better time that day, and had full bellies that night when they bedded down. But they awoke to a blustering blinding snow storm and dared not move that day. The tent was blown down three times and three times they struggled to get it up again. They moved deeper into the woods each time where there was more shelter from the wind and finally found a nice spot in the lee of a tree that had blown down in a previous storm. Here they stayed for two days until the storm abated and finally they knew they had to move before their horse meat was all gone. There were no villages on the road and all of them began to believe there were no more people in the world but themselves.

"Winterfell can't be far," Hot Pie said more than once as they talked on where the people could be. Maron told him to shut up or they would eat him when the horse meat was gone. Hot Pie kept silent after that.

That night they camped on the left side of the road where the trees were thicker. They barely got a fire going and the tent up before they collapsed from exhaustion. Hot Pie was no sooner asleep than Royce was waking him to take his turn on guard. Hot Pie crawled out of the tent and sat by the fire, warming his hands and feet. He was hungry and took some of the last of his share of the horse meat out of his sack and soon had it cooking over the fire. He had just gotten it nice and crisp and was bringing it to his mouth when he saw the eyes.

They were grey and big and looking at him from the trees just across from the fire. The wolf stepped out of the trees and it was the biggest wolf Hot Pie had ever seen in his life. It growled a bit but did not come at him, only looked, and then it's head tilted to one side and Hot Pie swore the wolf looked at him as if it knew him. Hot Pie had his dagger out but was so scared he could not speak to warn the other men. Then to his amazement the wolf lay down by the fire and just stared at him.

Then a dim memory came to Hot Pie, something about wolves and the North. Yes! The direwolf, that's what this had to be, it was a sigil of the Stark family and Arya had said that she and her brothers and sister all had pet direwolves. But she had lost hers in the Riverlands after it had bit King Joffrey.

The direwolf kept looking at him. And then in the dizzy state his mind was in from exhaustion and hunger, Hot Pie tried to speak to it. "Hello. Are you a Stark direwolf? I'm Hot Pie."

He instantly felt like a fool but the direwolf got up on its haunches and then it howled and it howled so loudly Hot Pie thought his ears would burst.

"Seven hells!" yelled Maron and by the time the other three men were out of the tent the direwolf was gone.

"Scared it away," Hot Pie told them and they mumbled well done and went back to sleep.

The next day they ate the last of their horse meat for breakfast. "Well, that's that," said Jason as he licked the grease from his fingers. "Not a scrap left."

"We better move," Royce advised. "There's got to be a village or farm somewhere on this road. It's the damn Kingsroad, isn't it?"

"What's the point?" Maron said bitterly. "We'll never find a village let alone get to Winterfell. Forget that bastard! Let's head south again!"

"What?" Hot Pie said, not sure if he heard correctly. "What bastard?"

"Nobody," Jason said swiftly. "He's just mumbling. Come on, on your feet. Time to walk some more."

They walked and walked, and soon they were exhausted from struggling through the snow. They stopped and set up the tent and slept and were too weak to even set guards or make a fire. Daylight came again and they were still alive and got up and took down their tent and there was nothing for breakfast except melted snow to drink. Then they walked some more.

The snow had begun to fall again and it was blowing and swirling and each step was an agony. The terrible white stuff got in their eyes and all around them was nothing but a white world, broken only by the tree line on either side of the road. Hot Pie's furs and cloak and breeches were matted with snow and it began to cake his eye lids and what little beard he had as well. His feet were sore and numb.

Behind him he heard a thump. He turned and it was Maron, sitting in the snow. "I can't," he said, his usual shifty eyes dull and lifeless. "Just…go on. Tell the King I tried. I just can't."

"Get up," Royce said in anger. "If we stop we will die!"

"I don't care!" Maron answered with a wail. "The King's red whore can burn me! Oh, that would be lovely. A nice fire to warm me toes. Make a fire, please, Royce."

"No," Royce yelled at him. "Get up, you miserable cur. You got me into this mess. I'd be safe with the army or maybe even home by now except you two thieves wanted a drink of wine! Get up, man! I want you to suffer as I suffer!"

"Leave him be," Jason said in exhaustion. "He's done. Let him die so we can eat him at least."

Maron then looked up suddenly, his eyes bright and feverish now. "Yes. We need to eat."

His took out his dagger and his eyes traveled to Hot Pie. "It's time, pie boy. When I think of your name my mouth waters. I hope you still have some fat on you."

"Gods, no!" wailed Hot Pie and he turned from them and started to run.

"Stop!" Royce yelled and Hot Pie knew not whether Royce was friend or foe now and he kept going as fast as his exhausted body could in the deep snow.

"Hot Pie!" screamed a voice and at first Hot Pie thought it was Royce again, but it sounded different and then he thought he was dreaming it. The whole world was white and his eyes hurt and his eyelids were near frozen and his limbs were numb. His feet could not take one more step. But they wanted to eat him and he forced himself forward.

Then he looked up and through the swirling snow he saw a wolf…no it was bigger than a wolf…and it was bounding through the snow coming right for him. It was the same wolf that had sat by the fire with him, the direwolf. And it was coming right at him, intent on eating him this time.

"No!" he manged to cry out but he could not move and only sank to his knees. Yes, kill me and be done with it. Better the direwolf than the men.

Behind him Royce yelled. "Wolf! Run!"

"Run where?" Maron yelled.

"Kill it and we'll eat it!" Jason screamed and Hot Pie heard the sound of steel coming out of scabbards.

"Hot Pie!" came the same voice again and then came another yell. "Nymeria! Stop!" and the big direwolf stopped about ten feet from Hot Pie.

Then he saw her. She came out of the swirling snow, over a snow drift, and he thought he was losing his mind because it looked like she was walking on top of the snow. She was thin and short and bundled in furs and was right behind the big direwolf. She had a skinny sword belted on her right side and a bow and arrows across her back. Three large men were behind her, all carrying spears, and behind them were four more men, carrying what looked like the carcass of a large deer on a long pole. Other men were on horseback not far behind, struggling through the deep snow. The men nearest were yelling at her to stop and were running after her. All of those on foot seemed to be running on top of the snow, and now Hot Pie could dimly see they had something that looked like large flat shoes made of tree branches tied somehow on their feet.

"Hot Pie!" she yelled once more as she ran atop the almost waist deep snow. He said a prayer to the gods and began to believe in them once more.

"Arya," he gasped and then she was there in front of him, laughing and saying she found him and then looking at him with worry. She helped him stand and began wiping the snow out of his eyes and face with her gloved hands.

"What are you doing at Winterfell?" she asked in surprise. The other men with Hot Pie were putting away their weapons and were also giving thanks to the gods, seeing that they were among friends. The spear men were now there and they warily held their spears level at Hot Pie's three companions. "Don't hurt anyone!" Arya shouted in a shrill voice to the others.

"Winterfell?" Hot Pie said in wonder. "We're at Winterfell?"

"Of course, silly," Arya said, her cheeks pink and breaths of steamy air coming out of her mouth as she spoke. "It's right over there."

She pointed back the way she had come and through the swirling snow he saw it, grey, grim, snow covered battlements rising up out of the snow and at the foot of the walls a small village with buildings with snow covered roofs and smoke rising from many chimneys. Hot Pie could not believe there was a place with fire and warmth and maybe even food that wasn't horse meat. He let out a little cry and was never so happy in his life.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked.

"I've been looking for you. Nymeria saw you by a fire," she whispered and before he could try to understand what that meant, she spoke once more. "What are you doing here?"

"You'll never believe it," he gasped with the last bit of strength he had left and then Hot Pie fell face down in the snow and the last thing he remembered was Arya yelling for help and strong hands were picking him up and putting him across a horse's back and then the gods mercifully let him rest for a while.


	18. Chapter 18 Stannis

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 18 Stannis**

King Stannis Baratheon stared with a baleful glare at Lord Edmure Tully of Riverrun. They were in Lord Edmure's solar, sitting at a large table on opposite sides. By Stannis' right side was Melisandre, dressed all in red as usual. With Lord Tully was his uncle, the Blackfish, Ser Brynden Tully. Things had started badly and were only getting worse.

Stannis and his army had arrived at Riverrun in a pouring rain the day before. His men had hurriedly made camp and put up strong defensive positions, and were happy to find some ditches already dug and many old wooden stakes lying around. They were placed here more than six moon's ago when the Lannister's lay siege to Riverrun and the Tullys it seemed were so short of manpower they had yet to clean up the battlefield. Robb Stark had routed the Lannister forces from here, and Stannis had routed them from King's Landing. Edmure Tully, however, had done little in this war except lose battles and take Lannister gold in compensation for his losses.

After his large tent was set up and he dried off and had a change of clothing, Stannis waited for Lord Tully to pay a visit. He waited, and waited, and no one came from Riverrun to pay homage or even had the courtesy to acknowledge a King was camped on their front door. Stannis' anger grew and when Melisandre suggested they go to the castle he let fly.

"They must come to me!" he declared in anger and no more was said on the subject. But still they did not come, that night or even the following morning. Finally, when he had had his breakfast and the rains had let up, Stannis swallowed his pride and entered the castle. He had no time to waste on waiting out these fools. They would give him respect or they would feel his wrath.

At the gates he and Melisandre were treated with all respects by the captain of the guard and the castellan, two old greybeards who had seen many more winters than Stannis had. They bowed and called him "Your Grace" and said Lord Edmure Tully and Ser Brynden Tully were waiting for him in Lord Edmure's solar. The castellan showed him the way, knocked on the door, opened it and left without announcing him.

Stannis gritted his teeth and entered the room and found the lord and his uncle standing by a large table. Edmure was much younger than his uncle, and, in contrast to the stern expression the Blackfish had on his face, Edmure looked decidedly worried. He was a younger man, maybe ten years younger than Stannis, and had the auburn hair of the Tullys, with a full beard framing his lower face. Stannis had heard he had a reputation for chasing women as a young man, but he was not yet married. That would need to be rectified if Lord Tully was to have any part in Stannis' new realm.

The Blackfish had a stern look in his eye, his stony features impassive. He was tall and strong looking, despite his age that had turned his hair grey. He had a reputation as a fierce warrior, with much experience and a good mind for strategy. Stannis knew much of Robb Stark's reputation as a victorious battlefield commander he owed to this man. The Blackfish also had a stubborn streak, Stannis knew, evidence by the long told story of the Blackfish's refusal to follow his older brother's orders for him to marry.

The Tully men did not bend to one knee or call Stannis "Your Grace." He was only 'Lord Stannis' here.

"Lord Stannis," said Edmure Tully formally, a slight tremor in his tone. "Welcome to Riverrun."

"Stannis Baratheon is your one true King," Melisandre informed them before Stannis could speak. "You should be on your knees."

"Do you speak for this king?" the Blackfish growled at her. He didn't wait for an answer but turned to Stannis. "We will give you your titles and all due respect, Lord Stannis… when you defeat the Lannisters."

"I see," said Stannis, grinding his teeth. "You fear my defeat, and fear if you pay me respects and help me the Lannisters will hang you all. Apparently, you do not fear me as well."

"We fear uncertainty," Edmure answered quickly. "Our people have suffered enough."

"Yes, they have," Stannis agreed. "I do not expect much from you. But you must do your part if we are to bring peace to the realm and have one true king."

"We are prepared to listen," Edmure said.

"Then we have much to discuss," Stannis said, trying to put aside his anger at their insolence. His first instinct was to hang them, but he needed their castle, and the people would cooperate better with their lords alive and well. Once the war was won he would have a sorting out with these two and any others who showed any lack of respect.

Edmure invited them to sit and so they did. Wine, bread, fruit, and cheese were brought forth. Stannis asked for water and it was provided.

"I need Riverrun as a base," Stannis declared once they had settled at the table.

"Not possible, my lord," said the Blackfish right away. "Your army will eat us out of whatever provisions we have left for winter."

Stannis grunted. "My army is well supplied, have no fear."

"Your recent raven message indicated otherwise," the Blackfish said.

"My message was intended as a sounding out of your supply situation," Stannis explained. "If you have extra provender, we will gladly accept it."

"We do not," Edmure told him.

"Then let us discuss it no more," Stannis offered. "As for my wanting this castle as a base, I shall have it one way or another, but I prefer to do this peacefully. You both know if I wanted Riverrun I could take it. We have more than ten times the strength of what men I venture you have left. And most of them have gone home."

"A siege will do no one any good," Edmure said, a hint of fear in his tone.

"You threaten us in our own home?" the Blackfish growled to Stannis. "You have a strange way of making friends and allies."

"I am your King!" Stannis said with more vigor than he intended.

"A true king does not need remind his subjects he is such," the Blackfish said.

Stannis bristled at this but it was Melisandre who spoke up. "Stannis is your true King."

"Yes," Edmure admitted. He looked to Stannis. "But we want our peace to continue. War has ravaged our lands. As my uncle said, we will accept you as our king…when peace comes."

"There will be no peace until the false pretenders are defeated and dead," Melisandre said.

"And I need every man who can hold a spear or bend a bow to do so," Stannis added, struggling to control his rage.

"Not our men," the Blackfish said in refusal. "We paid our price for this madness we did not cause or want many times over. We made our peace with the Lannisters. So did Ned Stark."

"A scrap of parchment signed by a dead man," Stannis replied with growing impatience. "Ned Stark should know better the value Lannisters place on such things. As my brother lay dying he gave Ned Stark another piece of parchment, naming him lord protector of the realm. When Robert died and Ned produced his piece of parchment, Cersei tore it up in his face and threw him in a dungeon. That is the value Lannisters put on words on parchment."

"We made an oath to Joffrey and his heirs," Edmure said next.

"You also made oaths to my brother Robert and I am his true heir. Joffrey was a false king, a bastard born of incest," Stannis told them with steel in his tone, his anger rising. "Do you dispute this?"

"No, my lord," replied Edmure, caution in his reply. "My sister and Ned Stark made it plain they believed their son Bran was crippled by the Kingslayer when he caught him and Cersei at their incest at Winterfell. Ned also told us of this bastard boy, the blacksmith, who he believed was King Robert's son."

"He is Robert's son, no doubt," Stannis told them. "If you ever saw him, you'd know this to be true."

"I did see him," Edmure answered. "When they signed the peace treaty with Tywin Lannister, this boy crossed to our side of the river with Ned and his girls. We do not doubt Joffrey was not Robert's offspring."

"Neither are his brother and sister," Melisandre said.

"They must all die," Stannis added in a harsh tone.

"Oh, yes, my lord," the Blackfish said, his face still stern as if made of granite. "Killing children is the way of things now, is it? We heard how Joffrey died. Arm broken, soaking wet, cowering in fear, surrounded by your men while you butchered him."

"He had to die," Stannis told them, struggling even more to control his rage. "I gave the boy a sword, he defended himself. A better death than he deserved. Better with steel than fire. They must all die. There can be no pretenders or the kingdoms will never be at peace." Children they were now, but if he let them live some day they would not be children anymore and seek to kill him and his.

"Joffrey was no true king," Melisandre said next. "Stannis is, and he will lead us in victory over the enemies of our one true god, the Lord of Light."

Now the Blackfish stared at Melisandre. "We have heard of you and your fire god. No one wants your god, my lady. The people will rise up if you force him on us." He turned his eyes to Stannis. "You know this to be true, my lord. No one will follow you if you force us to worship as we do not want. To be our true king you must let the people decide how they will worship."

"We are not here to discuss religion," Stannis said, wanting to avoid this topic as much as possible. "We have a common foe. You despise the Lannisters, this I know to be true. They raped your lands and people. I will give you your revenge on them."

"Yes, we would like revenge," Edmure offered. "But at what cost? Winter will soon be on us, and our store houses are hardly bursting. As we have clearly pointed out, my lord, we have so little to offer your war effort."

"Yes, I know that only true well," Stannis replied with a snort of disdain. "You let the Mountain and his men travel unmolested through your lands to the Golden Tooth."

"He had almost three thousand men, all mounted," the Blackfish answered. "We can barely muster three hundred cavalry and maybe two thousand men-at-arms and most of them have gone home to bring in the last harvest, poor as it is. We cannot help you in your war."

Stannis ground his teeth some more. "Very well, you are a spent force, as I expected. But I need your scouts at least, to show my men the way of the lands between here and the Golden Tooth. And I need use of this castle, to store supplies, to use for my lines of communication, and as a fall back point."

Lord Edmure looked to his uncle, a look of uncertainty on his face. "We can do this much, I think, uncle."

After a long silent moment the Blackfish curtly nodded and Edmure grinned. "Very well."

"Good," said Stannis, but he was not totally satisfied and would deal with these two in due time. "I have letters that need sending. I have need of your ravens."

Without further ado the Blackfish took Melisandre and the letters to the rookery while Stannis and Edmure went outside. Edmure found one of his knights and ordered him to collect twenty scouts and do whatever Stannis' commanders asked of them.

"They know the lands to the west very well…Your Grace," Edmure said, looking a little sheepish.

Stannis grunted. "So now you pay me the courtesies that are due to me. Or perhaps you always wished to do so?"

"I know you are the true King, Your Grace," Edmure replied. "But not all do."

Stannis now understood. "Your uncle is hard man, they say."

"He is."

"But you are the Lord of Riverrun and the Trident, not him."

"You lived in Robert's shadow, Your Grace. I lived in my father's and now the Blackfish's."

"He is a fearsome warrior, but not a man for understanding the ways of lords and kings. See that he shows me proper respect in future and I will forgive today's insolence."

"That may be difficult, Your Grace," Edmure said, looking uncomfortable. "He does not believe in your cause. What he said, about your god. I am afraid it is commonly spoken of."

"The people will be allowed to worship as they will," Stannis promised. "The Seven have been here for thousands of years yet still people worship the old gods and the Drowned God and others. I know the people will resist any unfamiliar gods. The people have no need to fear me as their King as long as they pay respect and are loyal."

"It is not you the people fear, Your Grace," Edmure said and then he shifted his eyes around a bit and lowered his voice as if speaking a terrible secret. "It's her."

Edmure did not need explain who he meant by 'her'. "She has aided our cause a great deal, Lord Tully."

"With sorcery, Your Grace?"

"Her god is powerful," Stannis admitted. "The Lord of Light will see us to final victory. Let us speak no more on this matter."

Edmure said no more. They were outside the main gates now, and many men of Riverrun and Stannis' army dipped their heads as they passed over the drawbridge across the moat. Below them the moat was full of water and they could hear the swift flow of the waters in the nearby Tumblestone and the Red Fork, both with rising waters after the heavy rains of the day before. Stannis' men had difficulty passing across the ford of the Red Fork and if the rains kept up it may be well impassable. Fortunately, the rains had stopped for now, and the sun had come out and was drying the land and the army as well.

"There is one other matter we must discuss," Stannis said when they reached the far end of the draw bridge. "Your sister Lysa Arryn."

Edmure nodded and seemed unsurprised, as if expecting this. "I have not heard from her since the war began. She has answered none of my ravens nor Catelyn's."

"Mine as well," Stannis told him as they began to walk between the rows of tents that were drying in the sunlight. "She cannot bury her head in the mountains and hope for the best. Tyrion Lannister was held prisoner there, almost died there, and he will never forgive her for that. He may be half a man, a man who I always thought was a drunken, lecherous, little fool, but he is also all his father I am learning to my regret. He has already stirred up the old religious orders and I am certain it is he who spreads these stories of Joffrey's death."

"Stories? Or the truth, Your Grace?"

Stannis grunted and walked some more as Edmure followed by his side. "Joffrey died as your uncle said he did. What I want to know is how he knew such details."

Edmure seemed a bit pained but told the truth. "We had a raven from Casterly Rock."

"What did it say?"

"The Imp canceled all further payments of the debt promised in the treaty until his war with you is complete. He also included the details of Joffrey's death."

"Joffrey had to die."

"I know, Your Grace. Better with steel than fire, as you said."

"Yes. So the Imp broke his father's treaty?"

"Not…well, not exactly Your Grace. He said payments would continue at a later date. He said…"

"He lied," Stannis interrupted. "All Lannisters are liars, as I and Ned Stark learned too late. You have the benefit of our experience, Lord Tully. Do not trust any words that come from the Imp or his kin. Tyrion Lannister is spreading these tales of Joffrey's death in hopes to bring sympathy for his cause, no doubt. And there is naught we can do about it. Your treaty is broken, however, so you have no reason not to go to war."

Edmure seemed aghast at this. "Your Grace, we have no men or food supplies for renewed warfare."

Stannis nodded. "No. You don't. But Walder Frey does. His lands were hardly touched by this war and most of his warriors survived as well. I have already sent messages to him. You are his liege lord. You will send messages to him as well, commanding him to support my army."

"At once, Your Grace."

"Good. I have written to your sister as well. And so will you, again. I will have the knights of the Vale."

They were at Stannis' tent now and his squire Devan was waiting. "Lord Tully and I have many things to discuss, Devan. Bring wine and water and then see we are not disturbed."

"Your table is ready, Your Grace. Shall I pour?"

"No. Wait outside." Devan dipped his head and stood by the tent entrance, holding open its flap. Stannis was always curt with him, but he was a good lad, and Stannis was glad to have him.

Stannis entered his tent with Edmure close behind. Stannis spoke as he poured wine for Edmure and water for himself. "Your sister Lysa. She must be made to see reason. I need her knights and the cavalry they command." He gave a cup to Edmure and sat and then pointed to a chair opposite.

"She is fearful, my uncle and sister told me," Edmure said as he sat. "She does not see friends, only enemies inside and outside of the Vale, Your Grace."

Stannis took a sip of lemon water and stared at Edmure. "She will support my cause, or when I defeat these pretenders I will march my army into the Vale."

"She…she thinks her defenses will save her, especially with winter coming."

"Perhaps for a time," Stannis agreed. "But when winter is over, she will rue not coming when her King called."

Edmure sighed. "I will write her again…but I fear it will do no go."

"When you write her tell her the consequences of staying neutral."

"I will, Your Grace."

"Very well," Stannis replied. "Now. We must discuss the secession of Riverrun."

Edmure was taken off guard, as Stannis expected. "The succession?"

"You do not have a wife or children," Stannis explained. "Who will inherit?"

"Catelyn, I believe, Your Grace," Lord Edmure said, a look of uncertainty on his face. "Yes, it must be Cat. She is the oldest of my sisters."

"Then you had best get married and start fathering children," Stannis advised. "Walder Frey has plenty of daughters and granddaughters."

Edmure blanched. "Yes…but most of them look like him."

"One was good enough for Robb Stark. You may find one just as suitable."

"It may be as you say, Your Grace," Edmure said, but still seemed unconvinced.

"We are high born, Lord Tully," Stannis reminded him. "We do not have the luxury of choosing our bride. A marriage with a Frey girl will bind you stronger with Lord Walder's brood. Then he and his sons will have no choice but to support us, instead of dragging their feet as they did in past wars."

Edmure nodded. "I…I will make inquires."

"Good. Catelyn Stark would be next in line if you die without children. But she has enough worries in the North and her own family. And now her husband does as well, with the Others and wildlings at the Wall."

Edmure looked shocked at this news. "The Others? We have had a letter from Lord Stark. The wildings he mentioned, yes, and the Others, but I thought it madness. They are myths, are they not?"

"No," Stannis said grimly. "They are real enough. They are attacking the realm. If the Wall falls…nothing may stop them coming even as far as here."

"The Wall has been there for thousands of years, Your Grace."

"Yes, but the Others have been gone that long as well. Melisandre…she can see things in her fires. She tells me it will fall."

"How can that be?" Edmure asked in worry.

"She knows not. But know this, Lord Tully. She has had such visions of things to come before. And she is always correct."

"What can we do?"

"Defeat the Lannisters. Then…we go north to aid Lord Stark."

Edmure looked uncertain. "Defeat the Lannisters, I understand, Your Grace. But going north? Winter will soon be on us. On the North already I fear."

"No, I think you do not understand, Lord Tully," Stannis said in stern tones. "Our war with the Lannisters is but a side show. The main event is up in the North. The time has come for all men to stand with sword in hand. You as well."

"We will do our part, Your Grace."

"Then call your banners."

Edmure took a deep breath. "My uncle…"

"Is not Lord of Riverrun and the Trident. You are."

"My supplies…"

"I have enough to feed a few thousand more men for a short time. Time enough to defeat the Lannisters. What say you, Lord Tully? Ride with me now and strike at our hated enemy."

Edmure had a look of determination on his face. "It will be done, but may take some time to muster the men again."

"Have them muster here, to guard our camps and the castle while we go west to face the Golden Tooth. Your men will guard our lines of communication between here and the west. You and what men you have at hand will ride with me, tomorrow. Your uncle can as well, or he can stay here and command the rearguard."

It was agreed to and then Edmure left to start giving his orders. Stannis called his commanders and made his plans for the march, to begin at dawn. Already the Riverrun scouts were leading parties of men on horseback to the west to look over the ground and make sure the Riverroad was free of any traps or other such surprises. After this long meeting Stannis dismissed his commanders and called for his lunch. Devan brought him meat and bread and cheese, a simple meal Stannis always took for his midday repast. Unlike his brother Robert Stannis had never had an abiding interest in banquets or lavish meals. If the boar hadn't killed him, or the Lannisters, he was sure Robert would have succumbed to his gluttony and drunkenness before too many more years had passed.

After his meal was done Melisandre came to him. She sat and took a small glass of wine.

"That man is a rock," she said, speaking of the Blackfish. "He will be no friend to you, Your Grace."

"I don't need him to be my friend. I need him to be my loyal subject."

"He is loyal," she said. "But he will not believe in our god. He will be a barrier to our true purpose in Westeros."

"Our true purpose is to defeat our enemies," Stannis reminded her. "I have need of men like Ser Brynden, even if he does not believe in our god."

"The Lord of Light is the one true god," she said, an oft heard refrain, so often Stannis sometimes grew weary of it. "All must bow before him."

Stannis knew where she was going with this. "Now is not the time to have this discussion."

"Soon there will be no more time, my King. The great battle will be on us. The people must stand united or we are lost. Truly lost."

"When? Where is this great battle?" he asked impatiently.

"North…of here."

"Where? The Wall, Win…"

"Not the Wall. It will fall."

"Then Winterfell?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps? You know not." He was growing weary of all this.

"Not yet. Be patient my King. The flames tell me as they will, I do not control them. And what I see is not always easy to understand."

"Yes, yes," Stannis growled, even more impatiently. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "But that is in the future," he said. "We have an enemy before us. What do the flames tell you of them?"

"They will fight…at or in front of the Golden Tooth."

Stannis grunted. Even his stupidest soldier knew that much. He stood, and strapped on his sword belt. "I must see to the preparations."

She only nodded and he left her. The rest of the day and night was spent in getting ready to move. Long after, as it grew dark Melisandre had her nightly ritual, but she did not come to him after to say what she had seen, if anything, in the flames. For once he felt no desire to know, feeling more and more that he had to depend on his own wits and skills for the coming battle.

Stannis was preparing to retire for the night when Devan opened the flap of his tent. "Ser Brynden Tully to see you, Your Grace."

So, he has come to apologize. "Send him in."

Stannis remained standing when the Blackfish entered. Again he did not go down on one knee or call Stannis by his proper titles.

"My nephew tells me you are angry with me," was all he said.

"He is your lord and I am your King. You treat both of us with disrespect."

The Blackfish grunted. "He is my lord, yes, yet he is also a man who has spent his youth chasing girls and enjoying life. Only in the last year when my brother grew very ill did he remember he is the heir to Riverrun. He is not ready to lead these people, what few we have left after the wars devastated our lands."

"Your lands, Ser Brynden?" Stannis asked with raised eyebrows. "You have spent the last sixteen years in the Vale guarding your niece."

"Still my lands."

"That are in my realm," Stannis replied, grinding his teeth. "I am your King."

"Yes, so you keep reminding me and so my lord nephew tells me I should call you," the Blackfish said. "So be it…Your Grace."

Stannis nodded and put aside his anger for the moment. "You will command the forces here and on my line of communications from Harrenhal to the Golden Tooth."

"I will," the Blackfish agreed and Stannis thought the matter was at an end. But the Blackfish was not finished yet. "You have convinced Edmure to call the banners, but few will come."

"His bannermen must come."

"Must has naught to do with it," the Blackfish replied. "Will they come is the question. Many will not. And Edmure has no force to compel them…Your Grace."

Stannis was tired of these complaints and lashed out. "Perhaps I should let my red lady burn a few to make sure the rest obey."

The Blackfish now took a step toward him and glared at him in a way no man had done since Stannis was a small boy and his father had given him such a look for some forgotten transgression. Stannis was tall like Robert but the Blackfish was taller still and looked down on him. "You do that…Your Grace…and every man in the Riverlands will pick up a sword or spear…but not for the reasons you want."

"Such talk is treason!" Stannis growled, glaring back.

"It is, but so is butchering your subjects," the Blackfish said in a calmer tone. "Your brother and Ned Stark, you and I as well, and many others, we went to war when the Mad King did such a thing. Men will fight your wars, Your Grace, but don't threaten them. Your brother knew the right of that."

With that the Blackfish left without another word, and Stannis stood there, strangely calm after the confrontation. I should be in a towering rage, he thought, but the words had sunk home. He was losing the people even before they were his. He was telling them they had to obey him. But what had he done to win their allegiance? Not much, he now realized. Stannis expected men to obey…but until now he had rarely thought on what they expected of him.

He was not his brothers. For Robert it had been so easy. Renly as well. Men loved Robert because he was jovial, warm-hearted, and forgiving when the fight was done. Robert's failings as a king were because of these things as well. He tried to please too many people. He wanted to drink and whore and was happy letting the Lannisters and others run the kingdom and run roughshod over him. Robert would never have burnt an enemy. He would more than likely put a cup of wine in his hand and challenge him to a drinking contest. How many of his enemies had he forgiven after the war was over and won? Most, except the Targaryens.

Men loved Renly because he was charming, open-handed with favors, and had a way of easily making friends. Yet he was not a king long enough to prove his weakness for such a role. Like Robert, his weakness was of the flesh, but of a different sort entirely. Perhaps he would sire children, but in time his desire for men rather than his wife in his bed would have been his undoing.

Stannis knew he was a better king than both of his brothers, but no one loved Stannis, a truth he had known for years. He had never wanted their love, as Renly pointedly out so clearly at their last meeting. Stannis always believed that men should obey him because he was their lord and now their king and because they feared him. But he now knew that alone would not bring him their loyalty. He also knew could not win the people with the fear of fire and a god they did not love. The Blackfish had the right of that. The question now was what to do about it.

Melisandre wanted the Lord of Light to erase the darkness in every corner of Westeros and to remove all other gods. But could he let her achieve this while burning alive those who refused to pray to the one true god? Long he thought on this and long he stayed awake and then he at last reached a decision. When he at last decided, Stannis put aside these thoughts, went to bed, and slept soundly, his sleep untroubled as usual by his burdens.

The army left Riverrun the next morning, in sunny but very cool weather. The bulk of King Stannis' forces crossed the Red Fork at Riverrun and formed up on the Riverroad as it continued west. Stannis' knew he was putting his army in a dangerous position, between the Tumblestone to his north and the Red Fork to his south. If the heavy rains continued these rivers would flood and the fords would be impassable and maybe even the few bridges would be washed away. Then his army would be trapped in the lands between the two rivers, unable to escape to the north or south.

Yet, this could serve as an advantage. If forced to retreat back to Riverrun, gradually his front would narrow the closer he got to Riverrun. Then he could anchor his defenses on the two rivers. His lines of communication would shorten as well. He had one good main road and plenty of supplies coming from King's Landing, to Harrenhal, and then west to Riverrun.

Lord Tully only managed to raise about two hundred cavalry and scouts near his castle and now they were in the van, picking their way cautiously west, with a few hundred of Stannis' cavalry in support. That was his weak point. He had plenty of spearmen and other foot soldiers but still lacked cavalry. He doubted he had even two thousand horsemen left. The Lannisters would have triple that or more at the Golden Tooth. Ser Gregor had three thousand and the Kingslayer and Ser Addam Marbrand would surely bring thousands more. Yet all that cavalry would not be much use in the hills and mountains near the Golden Tooth.

Based on all of these considerations, Stannis had several options. He could not sit at Riverrun and wait. He had to move west and force the passes by the Golden Tooth and take the castle under siege, and then wait for the main Lannister army to arrive to try to lift the siege. In the narrow roads and footpaths around the Tooth, advantages would go to the defenders. His men could bottle up the Tooth and block the roads and paths and whittle away at the Lannister relief forces.

The main problem with this strategy was that such a siege would take time, time he did not have now that winter was coming soon. On top of that he didn't think the Lannisters would let him get close enough to lay siege. They most likely were already on the move. Ser Gregor would make sorties from the castle to prevent siege lines from forming and when the bulk of the Lannister army arrived they would opt for a set piece battle in the lands before the Tooth.

Such a set piece battle Stannis surmised he could not win without more cavalry. His strong infantry could hold off the Lannister attacks, but he could not delivery a decisive blow without more horsemen. Eventually he would have to retreat to Riverrun and hope for the rains to come so the Lannisters could not outflank him to north and south. If the rains did not come he would have to drop off more men to guard the fords and bridges on the Tumblestone and Red Fork, and leave forces north and south of them, and thus weaken his main army more.

There was a third option. Somehow, someway, he had to fix the Lannister army in place and then seek an opportunity to strike a decisive blow at them. Such a blow would come from Melisandre. She said she was ready to once more rain fire on their enemies. Now if only the Lannisters would get close enough for her to use her powers, Stannis could rout them as he did the Tyrells. But the trouble with this was that they were wary of fire. After their experiences at King's Landing they knew the power of fire and may have devised some means to counter it.

West they marched and over the next few days much of what Stannis predicted came true. The rains continued, and the rivers rose and battle was joined. His army never reached the Golden Tooth. The muddy road slowed them and then the Mountain's men came down on the head of the column twenty miles to the east of the Tooth. They came howling out of a lashing rain squall to strike Lord Edmure and his men and the rest of the cavalry in the van. After a sharp battle, Ser Edmure was forced to retreat to the main body of the army and only Stannis' archers kept the Mountain from doing more damage. After at least a hundred of his men fell to arrows, Ser Gregor sounded the retreat and his men melted away to the west in the rain. Stannis' men fell on the Lannister wounded, killed many and taking some prisoners. Some with arrows sticking out of them tried desperately to crawl and run away but they were all dealt with.

"What of your losses?" Stannis asked Edmure as he reported to his King in the shadow of a large tree by the Riverroad, the rain less bothersome under its leaves.

"Perhaps as many as they lost," Edmure said quickly, trying to catch his breath. "We found two of our scouts hanging dead from a tree and then the Mountain was on us. He cut one of our men near in half and the rest bolted in fright."

Stannis ground his teeth. "Mount up and go back and collect any wounded." Edmure did so but all their lost men were dead or gone, prisoners now.

As night was on them Stannis ordered a strong camp made and then went to see the prisoners they had taken. They had captured twenty-two Lannister men, all wounded in one way or another. They cowered in fear under his men's guard in an open field, the slowing rains still falling on all.

"A maester," one man begged in a low voice as Stannis walked past. He had two arrows sticking out of his belly.

Stannis bent to him. "Where is the Kingslayer?" But the man had already died.

"You let me live, I'll tell you everything, Your Grace" said another man, sitting on the muddy ground nearby, his upper left leg bleeding slowly from an arrow wound he tried to staunch with a strip of cloth bound around it.

"I'm listening," Stannis said to him.

"The Kingslayer and Ser Kevan are on the way to the Tooth. Left Casterly Rock five days past I heard. Sent word for us to delay you moving west."

"How many men?"

"Most of the army I heard. Don't know the numbers, Your Grace."

"How well stocked is the Tooth?"

"Well enough. No war touched our lands yet."

"It's defenses?"

"Strong."

Stannis grunted. It was as he expected. He looked at the rest of the wounded and made a decision. "Set up a tent for them," he told the guards. "Get them food and have the maesters look to their wounds."

The wounded men thanked him profusely as he walked away. He was no sooner heading back to his tent when Melisandre approached him.

"I will need a prisoner or two for a sacrifice tonight, Your Grace."

"No," he said sternly, voicing the decision he had made the night before. "We are done with that."

She stared at him in wonder. "Your Grace, I cannot see what will come or help you defeat our enemies unless I make a sacrifice."

"Come to my tent," was all he said and she followed. Inside Devan gave them warm towels and already had three braziers glowing. Stannis told him to wait outside and make sure they were not disturbed.

After Stannis finished drying his face and hands he put his towel on the table and stared at the red woman. "We cannot unite the kingdoms in fear of our god."

She slowly put down her towel on a chair. "The people will love R'hllor in time. They will come to see he is the one true god and that all others are false. But they should also fear their god and what he will do to non-believers. A few examples and the rest will tremble in fear."

"Men will tremble in fear, oh yes," Stannis replied. "But they will also sharpen their blades and harbor desires for revenge and in their hearts will still hold to their old gods. This I have said to you enough times. I will say it no more. I will let you burn prisoners no more. It is done."

"These prisoners are Lannisters, our enemies."

"I am still their King. I will not butcher those too weak to stand and fight."

"That did not stop you from butchering Joffrey."

His dagger was in his hand before he knew it and it was at her throat and his mind roiled in dizziness. "You go too far, my lady," Stannis growled through gritted teeth, his blade touching the white pale skin at her throat. A mad thought crossed his mind. Would she bleed fire if he cut her?

She said nothing, only stared at him with a look that was not fear, only wonder. The heat from her body seemed to magnify. Maybe it was because he was so close and had not felt her touch since King's Landing, but an overwhelming urge to take her came on him. He felt a wave of renewed dizziness and then realized what madness he was doing. He still needed her. Stannis lowered the dagger and sheathed it, and turned his back to her. "Leave me," he commanded and she did so.

Stannis sat at his table and ordered Devan to bring him food. When it came he found he could eat nothing. He thought on the Blackfish's words again and the decision he had made. Men will rise up if he kept burning those who opposed him. So it must end. Now, or they will drag me and mine down as we did to the Mad King and his family. He had burnt his enemies. Am I becoming like him?

No, Stannis knew it was not him…it was her. She had burnt them. Fire was useful in battle, and all sides used it. But no man deserved to die like they had killed those prisoners at King's Landing. No more would it be done, not while he was King.

The rains had stopped the next day and they cautiously picked their way west once more. And once more the Mountain attacked, and delayed them even more. Two more days he attacked in slashing raids. He came and killed and then melted away. Both sides had loses and Stannis could not bring him to decisive battle with so few horsemen. Prisoners were taken and all were fearful of being burnt but Stannis saw that there were no sacrifices. Melisandre said nothing more to him of this. She still held her night fires and led the prayers which Stannis joined in. But after she always went to her tent and he to his. And then a few days later for once she came to him and told him what she saw in the flames.

"Tomorrow they will be in front of you."

"Where?" he asked right away, looking over his map on the table.

She ignored the map. "In the hills. I saw a long ling of red and gold men and horses, ready for battle."

And so it was. Lord Tully and his scouts hurried back just after dawn and reported the Lannister army arrayed in strong defensive positions on the hills just as the flatlands ended and the foothills of the westerly mountains began. Stannis rode forward and halted by a thick grove of trees near a babbling brook and used a Myrish spy glass to observe the Lannister lines. The army stretched north and south across hills and behind stone farmers' walls and between clumps of trees. The smallfolk of the region were all bound to Riverrun and were now fleeing down the road towards the east, their carts loaded with what they could carry.

"This is where the Kingslayer routed Lords Piper and Vance last year," Edmure told him grimly. It had been a shattering Tully defeat, and led to the siege of Riverrun. Edmure had been wounded and captured in the ensuing battles, saved only by the skill of Robb Stark and the Blackfish.

"We cannot break them," Stannis told Edmure after a long look. Edmure and his other commanders all took turns looking and agreed. The Lannister lines were well staked and ditched and bristled with men on foot and on horse, with plenty of archers and crossbowmen among them. To attack his men would have to climb up hills and over stone fences and around clumps of brush and groves of trees. They would be under arrow fire the whole time and those that did not fall would be tired by the time they reached the Lannister lines. They may inflict losses, but they would not break the Lannister lines.

Stannis did not break camp that day. He also had a good position here, and he had plenty of spearmen, swords men and archers, all ditched and staked and ready for battle. Each army was just out of sight of the other but the scouts between them skirmished and some blood was shed.

Around midday a herald appeared between the two armies and came to Stannis' camp under a peace banner. He was blindfolded and brought to the enclosed pavilion where Stannis, Edmure, Melisandre and the commanders met him

"Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Kevan Lannister would like a parley, Lord…Your Grace," the herald told Stannis when brought to him. He seemed like a nervous man and balked at saying the next part, glancing at Melisandre quickly and then away. "They specifically said that the lady would not be welcome at such a parley."

Stannis grunted. "So be it. Where and when?"

"On the Riverroad, by a small brook. As soon as possible." Stannis agreed and then the herald was blindfolded again and taken back to the road and sent on his way.

As they watched him ride away Stannis turned to Edmure. "Lord Tully, ride with me to the parley."

Edmure seemed uneasy at this prospect. "Your treaty is broken," Stannis reminded him. "They follow a false king. Come. Let us see what these liars have to say now."

Edmure did not protest and they mounted up and a guard of twenty men on horse followed at a distance.

The sun was out and it was a nice day for a change, though the road was muddy from the rains and rutted from the smallfolk and their wagons fleeing in fear to the east. The Kingslayer and his uncle rode out to them, both resplendent in their richly engraved armor. Ser Jaime did not wear the Kingsguard armor but was attired in amour with Lannister colors of red and gold. Behind them at a hundred yards was a small body of horsemen. Stannis nervously eyed a clump of trees and a low farmer's stone fence about one hundred yards away to the right front. Any ambush would come from that direction.

"Let me do the talking," Stannis told Edmure and he agreed.

The small brook babbled nosily as they halted beside it. "A fine day," Ser Jaime said to begin the discussions.

"Yes," Stannis said. "But we did not come here to discuss the weather."

"No, we did not," Ser Kevan said.

"The last time we met my father was at my side," Jaime said next, his demeanor now more decidedly cold.

"I gave him the chance to yield and he refused, as did Renly," Stannis told them. "They were both my enemies and now they are dead. As is Joffrey…your son."

Ser Jaime ignored the jibe. "Slaughtered by you like an animal we have heard."

"He had steel in his hand. He died well. But he had to die. As will you and all your kin unless you yield and bend the knee to me as your one true King. Your brother Tyrion is now Lord of the Rock. I will give him the same offer I gave your father. Bend the knee and he will keep all titles and lands and your family will maintain its place of honor among all the families."

"And what place would Tommen and Myrcella have in such a kingdom?" Ser Kevan asked.

"None," Stannis answered, unflinching in this one thing.

"Then our fight continues," Jaime said.

"You cannot win," Edmure suddenly blurted out. "I beg you, Ser Jaime. Yield now and save all you can before the Others are on us."

"The Others?" Jaime said in a mocking tone. "Have you been listening to an old woman's stories again, Edmure? And why are you here and not safely tucked away in your castle? We have a treaty. Or have you forgotten your oaths you made before me and my brother at Riverrun?"

"I did not forget," Edmure said. "But your brother forgot the terms of that treaty and did not pay us our due. He also did not send Myrcella north as was promised. The treaty is broken."

"Then your lands and titles are forfeit," Ser Kevan said, anger in his eyes. "And you will die with this traitor you ride beside."

"I am no traitor," Stannis said in his stern manner. "I am the heir to the Iron Throne. Robert had no true born children. Only bastards. All of the Seven Kingdoms know this to be true. Even you two cannot deny it any longer."

"Tommen is the true king," Jaime said, unflinching in this as Stannis expected.

"There will be no king if the Others fall on us all and bring on the Long Night," Stannis said and Jaime shook his head in puzzlement.

"The Others again? Have you both gone mad?"

"It seems all the news has not traveled west," Stannis told them. "We have had ravens from Ned Stark and Maester Aemon of Castle Black. The wildlings attacked the Wall and then the Others attacked them and the Night's Watch. Mormont is dead, and he lost over three hundred men at the Fist of the First Men. Now Ned Stark is at the Wall and in command, holding back our enemies."

"It cannot be true," Ser Kevan said, seemingly worried now.

"It is!" Edmure told him.

"You know Lord Stark would not lie," Stannis added

Ser Kevan snorted. "No, he would not. But you would."

"To what purpose?" Stannis asked. "Our war is here, not there. Yet while we fight none of us can move north to support the Watch or Lord Stark."

Now Jaime looked at them with incredulity. "Are you asking for an alliance?"

"If we have a common enemy, then we should have an alliance," Stannis replied, not expecting things to go this way but willing to grab the chance to end this war if it was there. "I have already offered your family peace terms the same as I offered your father."

"Terms we cannot accept if you insist Tommen and Myrcella die," Jaime said in a stony voice.

"Then there will be no peace," Stannis said, growing weary of this. "It was you who called this parley. To what purpose?"

"Because I wanted to look you in the face one last time and tell you I am going to kill you," Jaime said, with his cold green eyes fixed on Stannis. "For killing my father and for killing Joffrey. And when I am done killing you and scattering your army I am going to burn your red whore alive." He looked to his uncle. "I think we are done here." Both now seemed about to turned their horses around.

"Ser Jaime!" Edmure shouted. "Wait! Listen to reason."

Jaime kept his horse still. "I'm listening."

"Tell him, Your Grace," Edmure said. "Tell him what she saw. In the flames."

Jaime scoffed. "What's this? More sorcery?"

"You still do not believe in sorcery?" Stannis asked. "It killed your father."

Jaime flinched just for a moment and then recovered. "An assassin killed my father."

"No," Stannis said. "She did…with sorcery. You know this to be true. That is why you did not ask her to be here. You fear her."

"Bring her forth and we will see who fears who," Jaime said and he moved his hand to his sword hilt.

"This is a parley!" his uncle reminded him and Jaime relaxed and took his hand away. "Say what you will," Ser Kevan said to Stannis.

"Melisandre…the red woman…she has seen the Wall fall," Stannis told them. "She has seen the Others and their wights walking over the rubble and invading the North."

"Seen?" Ser Kevan asked. "How?"

"She has the gift of prophecy," Stannis said. "So far she has never been wrong."

"I do not give a mummer's fart for her prophecy," Jaime said with a snort. "I will have my vengeance and put Tommen on the Iron Throne. Our war continues."

Before Stannis could reply Jaime wheeled his mount and soon he and his uncle were gone.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Edmure said immediately. "I shouldn't have spoken out of turn."

"No, you should not have. But it is done now and it is good they know this," Stannis said. He hadn't planned on telling them, but he could see the doubt in their eyes and doubt in an enemy was always a good thing.

But then Stannis had no time for thinking about doubts anymore. To his surprise the Lannister army started to move forward, even before Jaime and his uncle had returned to their lines. So this was their plan all along. Get me out here and lull me and then attack while I am away from my lines. And kill me before I can get back to them, he now knew as well as Edmure yelled.

"Arrows, Your Grace!" Edmure shouted in warning and he and Stannis galloped away swiftly as the arrows fell where they had just been. Stannis had a quick glance of a line of archers rising from behind that stone wall and stepping out of the trees nearby it.

Back at the camp the men were hurriedly moving into battle positions. Arrows he had plenty of and Stannis would keep his men behind his barriers and launch clouds of arrows at the Lannisters. The Lannister cavalry was less effective here in this broken ground and horses would not charge sharpened stake barriers. It would become a slogging match between infantry. And for that Stannis had his own surprise.

As the Lannister men marched in thick columns forward from their hills and as their cavalry came trotting into view Melisandre came to his side on her horse, the two of them just behind the barriers and the men manning them. Devan was there as well, also mounted, as were his main commanders and Lord Tully. Stannis gave his orders and his men went off to carry them out. He placed Edmure and his cavalry commanders on the right near the Riverroad, with all his horse, ready to sortie if necessary.

"You did not foresee this attack," Stannis said with a grunt to Melisandre.

"No," she said. "My powers have weakened somewhat."

"You may burn as many Lannisters out there as you like, my lady," he told her.

"I fear not today, my King," she said, her voice soft. "I am too weak. I cannot feel the lord's power in me."

He was not surprised. He expected her to do this, after their disagreements of the last few days. "Then we will do it the old way," Stannis said. He turned to a group of nearby men. "Bring out the wildfire."

Siege engines meant for the Golden Tooth were rolled forward and their catapult baskets filled with pots of wildfire. It had been a risk moving it from King's Landing but the wagons carrying it had been filled with sand and their wheels heavily padded and their axles well greased. The wagons had been painted fiery red and all in the army had strict orders to not go near them. The teamsters who drove the wagons he paid triple in gold and none had refused the duty. The wagons stayed at the rear of his columns on the march and were parked well away from the main army supply wagons at night.

Once all the baskets were filled Stannis waited for the Lannister men to get in range. Soon they were close enough, but not close enough to launch arrows and Stannis gave the order to fire the catapults. A hundred pots of wildfire went into the air and landed on the ground between the two armies, very close to the Lannister lines. They halted as one. Stannis' archers let loose a barrage of fire arrows and with a horrific_ whoosh_ all the wildfire that lay soaking the ground and fields of grass and bushes and trees exploded into a deadly green wall of destructive flame between the armies. Flames licked up trees and turned them into towering infernos, grass fields were soon filled with spreading fires, and bushes went up in smoke in mere moments. Through the noise of his cheering men Stannis thought he heard a groan of horror from the Lannister lines.

The fires spread, and smoke roiled across the land. Then as a breeze moved the smoke away Stannis could clearly see the Lannisters were in retreat, back toward their hills. Now would have been the time to launch a cavalry charge, but they retreated in good order, and left few dead or wounded on the field. They were beat back but not defeated. Just at that moment, when Stannis felt growing confidence, Lord Tully rode toward him. With him was a man who had no business being here, the Blackfish, riding hard beside his nephew. His horse was frothing and looked windblown and ready to collapse. Its rider looked just as haggard, like he hadn't slept at all in days.

"Your Grace!" Edmure yelled as he pulled up. "My uncle has important news."

"It had best be," Stannis said with a stern look to the Blackfish. "I left you in charge of our rearguard at Riverrun."

"Soon it may be the front again, Your Grace," said the Blackfish grimly, his eyes red and tired. "We had a raven two days past and I rode swiftly here with the news. Ser Davos wrote to you." He handed Stannis the open scroll. "The Tyrells have broken their alliance with you. They are besieging King's Landing."

Stannis felt the cold hand of dread grip his guts. "That's…madness! I have Mace Tyrell's children!"

"Not anymore, Your Grace," the Blackfish reported. "They have escaped from King's Landing."


	19. Chapter 19 Davos

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 19 Davos**

The Queen, the Princess, and their entourage arrived at the docks by the Mud Gate at the midday hour. As they stepped off the boat, the guard of honor raised the banners of House Baratheon and the King's newer standard with the fiery heart. Everyone else went down on one knee, with the Hand of the King, Ser Davos Seaworth, at the head of the lords and ladies waiting to greet the Queen. Next to Davos were Lord Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle, followed by a line of many others, all with names more prestigious than Davos Seaworth, but none with the trust of the King.

Queen Selyse was a tall woman, thin, with the large prominent ears of her Florent family, and the shadow of a mustache on her upper lip. She was never considered attractive, and seemed even less so since she took up with the red woman and her Lord of Light a few years back. Her pale eyes now seemed to burn with an intensity that Davos found unsettling. She was a true believer, and those were the worst kinds in his experience. Her embracing of the Lord of Light and introduction of Melisandre to her husband had an unexpected result, and now the red woman had them both in her grip and maybe soon even the whole of the Seven Kingdoms.

That she was in King's Landing at all was a surprise to Davos. Stannis had explicitly told her to remain on Dragonstone until the war was over as he did not want to put her or their daughter's life in any danger. Yet here they were and Davos was sure Stannis would be grinding his teeth to dust if he knew they were no longer on Dragonstone. Perhaps they would only stay a short time and there would be no need to report to Stannis that they were here. Stannis had enough problems and being Hand to the King meant Davos had to deal with as many problems as possible to free the King to rule the realm.

The Queen and her party had arrived unexpectedly, their ship appearing without warning in the approaches to King's Landing. Davos had to scramble to provide a proper welcoming after he had word of her coming. Most of those now waiting to greet the Queen had barely had time to put on their finery before rushing to the docks by the Mud Gate.

The Queen stopped by Davos and offered her right hand which he kissed. "Rise, Ser Davos."

He stood and dipped his head to her. "My Queen. Welcome to King's Landing."

She sniffed the air. It reeked of fish and salt water, and the stench of a city of more than two hundred thousand people. "Yes, our beloved capital. It still reeks, even more so now. What news of my King?"

"He is still in the Riverlands, Your Grace," Davos replied. "Moving toward Riverrun, according to the latest messages. Harrenhal has fallen but he still seeks battle with the Lannisters."

"Not to worry, Ser Davos," she said in a calm manner. "The Lord of Light will see him to victory."

"As you say, my Queen. Ah…this is Lord Baelish and…"

"I know Lord Baelish," Queen Selyse said to him. She looked at Littlefinger and then past him. "And Grand Maester Pycelle."

"My Queen," Baelish said as he kissed her offered hand and Pycelle did the same.

"I will be joining your small council from now on, Ser Davos," she said.

Davos nodded and realized she expected to stay a while. "Yes, Your Grace. I must warn you that our meetings are filled with the tedium of ruling the Kingdoms."

"Indeed," Pycelle added. "Much detail and little to excite one, Your Grace."

"Not to worry," said the Queen. "I want to know all the details. I want to know everything."

"Of course, Your Grace," said Davos. "We will meet after you are settled." What else could he say? He did not want her, but she was the Queen. Stannis would never have allowed it, but he was far away.

The Queen moved down the line, greeting more people. Her daughter Princess Shireen followed shyly behind her. The Princess came up to Davos and smiled at him. She would never have been a pretty child, with her father's square jaw and her mother's Florent ears, but the greyscale that afflicted one side of her neck and face, causing a hardening of the skin, made her even less pretty. She was a sad child, but she was sweet in her own way, and whenever she saw Davos she smiled and he smiled back.

"Welcome, my Princess," he said with a short bow. "I hope you enjoy your stay in King's Landing."

"I have never been here before," Shireen said to him.

No, she hadn't, he realized. She had lived on Dragonstone since she was born and was soon after afflicted with greyscale. She was rarely seen by anyone outside of the castle on Dragonstone, her only companion the fool Patchface, who now stood behind her, jumping from foot to foot, and jingling and jangling with the many bells he carried on the antlers he wore for a hat. He was singing some silly refrain about living under the sea, like he always did. His face was tattooed in motley, whites and greens and reds and yellows, making him unsettling to look at for too long. He was from the east and his first taste of Westeros had been the sea in Shipbreaker Bay, the same day Stannis' father and mother and many others perished when their ship sank. But Patchface lived, washing ashore three days later, and all who knew the tale wondered where he had been for those days and how he had survived. He sang of living under the sea often, and Davos shuddered at times, wondering what had really happened to the fool.

Davos turned his attention back to the Princess. "I am sorry that the capital is not as magnificent as it once was. It still suffers some damage from the war, my lady. But there are still many splendid sights to see."

"I am sure it is lovely," she replied politely.

Soon after they were all inside the Red Keep and Davos saw that the Queen and Princess were settled in lavish quarters befitting their rank. The rest of the Queen's entourage, including a large body of men that bore the fiery heart of the Lord of Light on their surcoats, were settled in various barracks and rooms around the Red Keep.

After seeing to these matters Davos retired to the Tower of the Hand and his solar for a much needed break before the afternoon meetings. He hoped the Queen would only want to sit and listen. If she tried to make decisions he would have to put an end to it. Stannis would support him in this, so he was not too worried. But the Queen and her men were a force he had to be wary of, for power struggles as ever revolved around the court. As he climbed the steps in the tower Davos reflected on how strange his life was now. Dealing with royalty, deciding matters of importance to the realm, it was a long way from his lowly beginnings and his life as a smuggler. He stopped on a landing and looked out a small window on Blackwater Bay, where many ships were sailing and rowing to and from the city.

I belong out, there, he thought, on a deck, with my sons. That all seven were still alive Davos thanked the gods for, the Seven gods, not the King's Lord of Light. Devan was with Stannis in the Riverlands, his two youngest were still with their mother Marya at home, and his four oldest boys were out there, manning ships on patrol of the approaches to King's Landing and Blackwater Bay. When they were in port he always dined with them and questioned them and discussed matters of the sea and trade. He missed his wife and two younger sons and thought at times to bring them here, but the war was not over yet and they were safer at home.

Davos climbed the rest of the stairs and was greeted at the door to his chambers by a young lad Stannis insisted he take on as his squire. "You have a visitor, Lord Hand," the boy said. Davos felt strange being called "Lord Hand." He was a knight, not a lord, but that was the title so he took it. Perhaps Stannis would make him a real lord when he returned from his wars, but Davos did not covet the titles. At least not for himself. For his sons, yes, so they could rise above what life had given him at the start.

"Who is it?" he asked the lad.

"Ser Axell Florent, Lord Hand. Forgive me, but he insisted on entering without waiting for you."

"Not to worry, lad. Wait here."

Davos entered his chambers and found Ser Axell Florent already sitting at a table with a cup of wine in hand. That was rude, entering his chambers when he was not here and drinking his wine, but Davos put it aside. Ser Axell was a stout and not very comely man, with the prominent ears of his family, and a large broad nose. He was not a well-liked man, even in his own family, but he had influence, serving as castellan of Dragonstone for many years, and his niece was the Queen, so Davos greeted him politely.

"Welcome, Ser Axell. I did not see you at the docks."

"I felt ill and came ashore after you left. The sea is bad for my stomach." Ser Axell remained seated and did not even call him by name or title.

"Fortunately, I was never so afflicted," Davos said. He took a flagon of wine and refilled Ser Axell's cup and then poured for himself.

"No, I suppose a smuggler needs to have a strong stomach and good sea legs," Ser Axell said as he sipped his wine.

Davos sat opposite him and stared at him and decided they had exchanged enough pleasantries, as cold as they were. "Get to the point."

Ser Axell grunted. "So be it. We don't like each other, let us be plain about that."

"You have never hidden your dislike for me, so I did not think this was a courtesy visit."

"You don't belong in this tower. I do."

Davos had been expecting this. Ser Axell had been the obvious choice to be Stannis' Hand, but he had chosen Davos instead. "The King made me his Hand. Best take it up with him. You can find him at Riverrun. The journey is mostly overland, so your stomach will be fine."

"My place is with the Queen, protecting her and the Princess."

"Aye, of course it is."

"I will sit on the small council."

"No, I think not."

"The Queen has asked me to join her."

Davos grunted. "If the Queen wishes you there, so be it. You may sit. But you may make no decisions or even suggestions."

That took Ser Axell aback. "I was castellan of Dragonstone for ten years. What do you know about governing? The realm is no ship."

"Aye, you were castellan. But Dragonstone is not the realm. And the realm is a ship. It needs a steady hand at the tiller or it will be washed up on the rocks when the storms come. And right now we are in the biggest storm of all."

Ser Axell snorted. "The Lord of Light will see these Lannister upstarts defeated."

"We have more enemies than the Lannisters."

"What enemies?" Ser Axell asked as Davos rose and went to this working table. He took the scrolls he had received from Ned Stark and Maester Aemon, copies of which he had sent to Stannis.

"Read them," he said as he thrust the parchments at Ser Axell.

"Aloud, so you can understand them as well?"

That stung Davos. "I have learned to read. As Hand, I thought I ought to know how."

But Ser Axell ignored him as he read. "The Others?" he finally said in surprise, as Davos expected.

"Aye. So they say." Davos sat and they talked on it for a bit and when Ser Axell was convinced it was the truth he did as Davos thought he might.

"This must be the enemy she speaks on. Have you sent word to King Stannis and Melisandre?"

"I have. The King wrote back, telling me to send whatever men and supplies I could spare to the Wall. They are being assembled now. Now that you are here, I am thinking they need a good leader."

"I will not go to the Wall," Ser Axell growled in protest after he realized Ser Davos meant to send him.

Davos glared back. "If I command it, you will."

Ser Axell laughed and stood and finished his wine, slamming the cup on the table. He stood close to Davos and leaned over him until his face was inches from Davos'. "Try it, Onion Knight. The Queen will not send me away. Maybe it is you who will be going to the Wall."

The next morning Ser Axell Florent stood with many soldiers on the deck of a galley, his face already looking a little green, as it pulled away from the docks by the Mud Gate. The Queen and Princess and Davos and many others stood on the docks to wish them well. The Queen shouted to him as the galley pulled away.

"The Lord of Light will protect you in your battles to come, uncle!"

Ser Axell wanly waved back and gave a short bow to his Queen. "He is fortunate, going to face our one true enemy," the Queen said, almost breathless, as if she wished to go in his stead.

"Aye," Davos said. "If you please, my Queen, we have a council meeting."

He had not expected her to agree with him to send Ser Axell north as commander of the reinforcements for the Wall, but when he told her about the Others and the danger they posed, she readily agreed, with an intense fever in her eyes. "Yes, you must go, uncle!" she had said to a pale-faced Ser Axell. "You will be the vanguard in our battle against the true enemy." After that, Ser Axell could only feebly agree.

When they were all settled in the small council room Davos began the meeting. "What reports, Grand Maester Pycelle?"

Pycelle cleared his throat and talked in his ponderous way. "Little of new import to report, Lord Hand. King Stannis has not sent any new reports. The Tyrells are still blocking the Goldroad, between here and the main bridge over the Blackwater. They…"

"The main bridge?" Davos interrupted. "They should be advancing to the west, be close to Silverhall and Deep Den by now." That had been King Stannis' explicit instructions. The Tyrells were to demonstrate against the Lannisters by moving close to their lands and offer battle if an opportunity presented itself.

"They had begun to move west, Lord Hand, but then stopped two days ago."

"Very odd," Littlefinger commented. "Why would they stop?"

"I know not," Pycelle answered. "Perhaps you would like to go visit Mace Tyrell and ask him in person. I am sure they would welcome you back."

Littlefinger grinned. "So sorry, but my ship for the Vale leaves tomorrow."

"Lord Baelish is no friend to the Tyrells," Davos said, with a hard stare at Pycelle. The Grand Maester knew this. He was sick of their bickering. He had heard it was worse when Lord Varys was here, but right now Davos wished Varys was here, for he knew the Spider would know why the Tyrells had stopped their move west.

"If the Tyrells are dragging their feet, perhaps we should send them a message," the Queen said. "You have Lord Tyrell's children, yes?"

"Aye, my Queen," Davos replied. "And our alliance rests on that alone."

"Burn one of them," she said with an intensity in her words and eyes.

Davos blinked at her, as if he was not quite sure he had heard her. Pycelle gasped, and Littlefinger gave a small chuckle.

"My Queen," Davos said in a gentle manner. "We cannot do that."

"Why not?" she said, and there was that madness in her eyes again. "Burn one of them, the boy, and Mace Tyrell will fall on his knees and do all you wish to spare his daughter a similar fate."

There was a long silence. Pycelle fiddled with his chain and would not look at the Queen. Littlefinger pretended he had something important to do in his ledger book. Davos stood alone.

"We cannot do that," he repeated and pushed on before she could protest. "King Stannis would be quite angry if we did that. And Mace Tyrell would more than likely storm our gates than do as we ask."

"Perhaps," the Queen said after a moment of thought and the matter was not discussed further. Davos looked to Pycelle, wanting to quickly change the subject. "What news from the Dornish and the Vale?"

"None, Lord Hand," Pycelle said, and it was not unexpected.

"I will soon have the Vale in our camp," Littlefinger promised. The rest of the meeting was taken up with discussing minor points about rebuilding and supplies. As the meeting was about to end, a page entered the room.

"A man is requesting an audience, Lord Hand, Your Grace."

"Who is it?" Davos asked impatiently.

"A Braavosi, Lord Hand. Tycho Braye of the Iron Bank."

Littlefinger stood. "I will deal with him."

"What does he want now?" Davos asked wearily. They had already made promises to this banker and Davos thought him gone and the matter at an end.

"More money, no doubt," Pycelle said.

"He has been promised all we can afford at the moment," Davos reminded Littlefinger. "See that we do not give away what little we have left, Lord Baelish."

"Of course, Lord Hand," Littlefinger said with the impudent little grin he always had, as if he knew some secret he did not wish to share. He bowed to the Queen. "Your Grace." And then he left.

"Who is this Braavosi?" the Queen asked when Littlefinger was gone.

"A banker, Your Grace," Pycelle answered. "A miserable money lender coming for his due."

"The realm borrowed and must now repay, Your Grace," Davos said. Robert had borrowed, and Joffrey had as well, and now Stannis had to deal with this debt, plus fight a war, and run the kingdom, on what little incomes they had coming in. Stealing half the wealth of the citizens of King's Landing who had died or fled solved many of these problems, but it was a solution that had limits. They needed new sources of income. Littlefinger had increased the customs duties and taxes on various activities but it was not enough, especially with a large part of the realm not in their control. Littlefinger, of course, made sure his own enterprises were profitable. He also seemed distracted these days with his impending trip to the Vale. Money was going out faster than it was coming in. What good would it be to pay back the Iron Bank if they needed to borrow again soon after?

That night for the first time since Melisandre and Stannis left King's Landing there was a night fire and prayers to the Lord of Light in the Red Keep. The Queen and her men chanted and prayed and were led by a red priest, an acolyte of the red woman. Davos knew this new religion would not be easy for Westeros to swallow and he had said as much to King Stannis. He had protested as well when they began to burn prisoners but Stannis said they needed to please their god. Davos knew the power of this god, had seen him in action, when he had rowed the red woman across the Blackwater and she gave birth to the monstrous thing that he was sure had killed Tywin Lannister. He knew the Lord of Light was powerful, but he also kept his faith with the Seven, for they were his gods, and he would not forsake them.

The next morning Lord Baelish boarded his ship, a fat sailing cog with two masts, and sailed away to the Vale. Again a large crowd came to see those leaving off, including the Queen, the Princess and their entourage. Pycelle seemed most pleased to see Littlefinger going, but Davos worried, wondering how their shaky economy would stand up now that its strongest pillar was leaving on a mission of diplomacy.

At the docks also to say goodbye was the Braavosi banker. The Queen asked for an introduction and Davos obliged.

"My Queen, this is Tycho Braye of the Iron Bank of Braavos."

Braye bowed formally and kissed the offered hand. "Your Grace, I am happy to meet you. And the Princess."

Shireen hid shyly by Patchface's side, not used to meeting so many people.

"Yes," the Queen replied to Braye, her tone cold and haughty. "Ser Davos tells me you are here to collect some debts."

"Just so, Your Grace. Some minor details needed ironing out. Lord Baelish was most helpful."

"They are not my husband's debts."

"Just so, Your Grace. But they are the realm's debts and now the King is the realm, is he not?"

"He is," she agreed. "Tell me. What god do you worship in Braavos?"

"All gods are welcome in Braavos, Your Grace."

"Including the Lord of Light?"

"Most certainly, Your Grace."

"He is the one true god. Don't you agree?"

Davos felt uncomfortable about the direction this was heading. "My Queen, we should…"

"No. I want him to answer."

Braye bowed again. "As you say, Your Grace."

"That is no answer," she snapped at him.

Many around them were listening and Davos felt the tension in the air.

This time Braye looked at her steadily. "We believe all gods are true gods, to those who believe in them."

The Queen eyed him and for a moment Davos thought she would do something that would force him to intervene but she just turned and left and her daughter, Patchface, and her guards followed.

"I must apologize," Davos said to Braye when the Queen was gone.

"Why, Lord Hand?" Braye answered calmly. "She is a queen. I expect nothing less. In Westeros your people treat the queen and king like gods, do they not?"

"Maybe so," Davos admitted grudgingly. "What are your plans?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. He felt like adding a title at the end of his question but as Braye had no title Davos did not know what to call him.

"I must book passage to Braavos and will leave soon before the fall storms make the passage too difficult."

"I will have my sons check the docks for a ship going to Braavos."

"Most kind of you, Lord Hand."

After that Davos was busy most of the day with various duties. A long time later a guard came and said that Loras and Margaery Tyrell wished to have words with him.

He found them in their quarters as usual. Their prison cell was a more apt term, but never had a prisoner lived in such comfort. Davos made sure they lacked for nothing. They had been kept confined here except for daily walks in the courtyard, all the while under guard. Loras had to forgo such walks at first but now that his leg was healed he took the daily walk with his sister.

A few weeks past, soon after King Stannis and the army left, Mace Tyrell made a sudden appearance at King's Landing. Davos was taken by surprise, as Lord Tyrell had made no notice of his coming and had stayed far away while Stannis was here. One day Baelish had proposed that Mace Tyrell come to King's Landing to prostrate himself before King Stannis on the Iron Throne to make his allegiance clear but Stannis brushed that aside as mere theater.

"His army blocking the Goldroad is all I require of Lord Tyrell at the moment," Stannis had told them and the matter was dropped.

The fat Lord of the Flowers had demanded to see his children, looking down his nose at Ser Davos, as most nobles did. Davos thought to protest but did not see what harm it would do and it would reassure Lord Tyrell that his children were well. The meeting was emotional, with the daughter on the verge of tears, but conducting herself well and said they were treated kindly, which was true after all. Ser Loras was a different matter, venting his anger about their confinement to his father. Lord Tyrell promised them both that soon it would be all over and after they left the rooms he confronted Davos in the corridor.

"Some day there will be a reckoning," Lord Tyrell had told him.

"I thought you would be pleased to join us in fighting the Lannisters, my lord," Davos replied.

"Pleased?" Mace Tyrell asked in disbelief.

"You are the second wealthiest and second most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. Once we defeat the Lannisters, you will be the first."

Lord Tyrell thought on this for a moment but then shook his head. "This was ill done. Release my children and I swear on the Seven to maintain our alliance."

"I believe you, my lord, but King Stannis would have my head on a spike over the gates if I did such a thing."

And so things had remained the same. But now Mace Tyrell and his bannermen were dragging their feet about moving west. As Davos walked up the stairs in the tower where the Tyrell's chambers were located he pondered what to do, but could think of no easy solution. He certainly could not burn one of the children as the Queen had suggested. That was a path to madness he dared not take.

Inside the chambers he found Margaery reading a book at a table and Ser Loras standing by the window, looking out to sea. They were in a high tower, and the drop to the sea was very far and one slip would be fatal, so there was no fear they would escape that way. Ser Loras turned when Davos entered and walked rapidly to his sister's side. His leg seemed completely healed and he had no limp at all.

"We wish more freedom," Ser Loras said at once without any greeting at all.

The girl laid a hand on her brother's arm. "Loras, please. Forgive him, Ser Davos. Being cooped up in here most of the day is apt to make one impatient."

"I understand, my lady. I have served my time in confinement, and much worse than this."

"Oh? Do tell."

"I wasn't always a knight and Hand of the King."

"He's the Onion Knight sister, don't you know?" Loras said with a bit of a sneer. "A smuggler, who helped Stannis defy our father at Storm's End."

"Oh, Loras, you know I was but a babe during all that," Margaery said, all charm. "Ser Davos, what my brother meant to ask you is that we were wondering if it were possible for us to have more freedom to roam…within the Red Keep, of course, no where else."

"And where exactly would you like to be free to roam?"

"Anywhere but here and that small courtyard," Loras said. "I would like to practice with the men-at-arms and joust again if I could."

"I am afraid that is not possible."

"Why not?" Loras retorted. "We are allies after all. Are we not? I am healed and ready to rejoin the fight. But these months in confinement have sapped my strength and skill."

Davos could not see what harm it could do. "Fine, you may join the men in the practice yard."

"Thank you," Loras said, a bit grudgingly.

"And I wish to go to the library and perhaps the gardens as well," Margaery said.

Davos nodded. "So be it. I will trust your word that there will be no plans to leave the Red Keep and that at dusk each evening you will return here."

Loras snorted. "I am sure the guards you have following us will make certain we return."

"I am sure they will. If that is all…"

"No, please," said Margaery quickly. "What news of the war?"

He spent a short time telling them the basics and then left them, both bewildered by his tale of the Wall and the Others. They seemed like they did not believe it and Davos cared little if they did or did not. He had more important things to do than deal with hostages. He passed the word to the captain of the guards of the Red Keep about the new liberties he granted to the Tyrells.

Two days later Davos was in his solar, about to eat breakfast, and thinking about finally writing to the King to tell him his wife and daughter were here, when his squire announced Grand Maester Pycelle. The old man rushed into his rooms without waiting for the lad to finish announcing him.

"They're gone!" Pycelle said with a gasp.

Davos could not understand what he was saying. "Gone? Who?"

"The Tyrell children! Escaped in the night!"

"Gods, no!"

He dashed from the room and went with Pycelle, and was soon far ahead of the aged maester. The climb up the tower stairs to the Tyrell's rooms seemingly took forever. At the top of the stairs he found two guards, dead, their throats cut, their blood congealing on the stone steps. Davos stepped around the grisly remains and in the corridor outside the Tyrell's rooms he found more chaos. Two more guards outside the rooms were dead, their throats also slit, their blood covering the floor. Many guards were here, examining the scene, including the captain of the guards for the Red Keep.

Davos dashed into the rooms and they were empty except for a few guards examining every nook and cranny.

"What happened?" Davos demanded of the captain at once. He explained how the servants coming with breakfast for the Tyrells found the night guards all dead and then raised the alarm.

"But…where are they?"

"Gone, Lord Hand," said the captain in worried tones. "But they must still be in the Red Keep. The city at least. We've already ordered all the gates shut, and put men in the tunnels as well. We'll catch them, fear not, Lord Hand."

"What about the shoreline and the docks? What about Blackwater Bay? The sea!"

"The sea?"

"Yes, a ship! They could easily leave by ship. Have any ships left?"

The man's silence and confused look told him all. "Send a hundred men to the docks at once! More to the shoreline. Examine every part of it! Talk to everyone!"

It was done and the search continued all day as Davos fretted. If they escape and reached their father's camp, who knows what would happen. When he reported to the Queen, matters did not improve.

"You should have let me burn one of them," was all she said in a cold manner before retiring to her quarters with her many guards blocking her doors.

Late in the afternoon, they discovered what had happened. Or at least part of it. They found an old man who had been fishing from the shoreline below the Red Keep. He saw a small rowboat with three people in it heading out in the bay just before the dawn. He said they rowed hard across the mouth of the Blackwater and its current pushed them out to sea a ways before they managed to reach the southern shore. They got out on the shore and left the boat. Some men with horses were waiting for them and they all rode away. One of those in the rowboat was definitely a woman

Davos immediately assembled a large force and had them ferried across the Blackwater. They found the boat, empty, and dragged it up the shore further. He sent men on horse far and wide across the land, but had faint hope of finding the Tyrell siblings. They had a half day start and were many miles away by now.

When he came back to the Red Keep at dusk more news awaited him. Davos was thinking on how to report all this to Stannis, when the captain of the guards approached him.

"The Braavosi banker is gone, Lord Hand," reported the captain.

"Gone? Gone where?"

"We know not, Lord Hand. No one has seen him since yesterday when he bid farewell to Lord Baelish at the docks. He is not in his quarters, he is not in the Red Keep. All his belongings are still here."

"He could be in the city anywhere. Find him."

"Yes, Lord Hand."

But they did not find him, the next day, or the one after that. Was he dead, face down in a gutter somewhere? Or was he part of this plot to free the Tyrell children? Davos thought the idea absurd. He was a banker, not a soldier. He was Braavosi, he had no stake in the wars of Westeros. He…he was Braavosi.

Gods…not one of them, Davos thought with a shudder. Could it be?

Davos Seaworth had plied the Narrow Sea for many years as a smuggler and he knew all the people on both sides of the sea. The Braavosi specialized in three things: trade, banking,…and murder. Assassination they called it, but it was still murder to Davos. Men paid to cut other men's throats in the middle of the night. But if this Tycho Braye was a Faceless Man, who paid him?

The Lannisters. It had to be. And that meant only one thing. Mace Tyrell would soon have his children back. And there was no doubt what he would do then.

But Davos had to confirm his suspicions first. That night he went to the banker's quarters with a lit candle and looked about. The banker's trunk and clothing were still there. There were also some papers and books. Davos shifted through them all, not understanding most of the words, and was about to leave when he found something odd. It was a charcoal drawing, of a girl, and Davos immediately knew who it was, without a doubt. It was Princess Shireen. The banker had seen her briefly at the docks when Baelish had sailed away, but his drawing was an uncanny resemblance of her, even with the exact placing of her hardened skin from the greyscale.

Below the drawing was some writing. Davos was not a learned man, but he had struggled these past months to teach himself to read, and found it easier when alone if he said the words loud, to hear the sound.

"The freeing of the Tyrell siblings has naught to do with the Iron Bank, Ser Davos," he said aloud, finding it strange to say his own name aloud. "King Stannis will continue to make payments to the Iron Bank. Tell King Stannis this and show him the drawing. He will understand."

Gods, they were threatening the life of the Princess. He knew what Stannis would do if he saw this drawing. He would kill every Braavosi he could lay his hands on after torturing them for information on this Tycho Braye. But Davos knew that would do no good. Tycho Braye was most likely not his real name. The stories he had heard of the Faceless Men, how they could change disguises and kill and be gone and do it without anyone knowing they had done it, this all made the chances of discovering this killer even less.

Davos made a decision then, and he hoped he would not regret it later. He took the drawing and the candle and went to the hearth in the banker's room. He lit the edge of the drawing and set it in the heath. Soon it was ablaze and moments later was reduced to ash. He then ordered a servant to take all of the Braavosi's belongings to Davos own quarters, where he could have time later to look them over more carefully.

After more investigation Davos learned that the banker had been seen in the library talking to Margaery Tyrell during the day before they had escaped. The guard reported that the Braavosi had been in the library already when they arrived and had spoke briefly with Lady Tyrell and nothing suspicious had been said. Nothing suspicious had been said, or everything had been said, and the guard was too stupid to know the difference. All this made it clearer to Davos that the Braavosi was involved with the Tyrell's escape. By now they were at their father's camp and Mace Tyrell and his captains were making up their minds whether to stay with Stannis or join the war against him. He knew what Ser Loras would want and Davos decided that he had to take action now, without waiting on the Tyrells to make a move.

He took all men working on the repair of the city buildings and put them on the repair and strengthening of the walls and gates. He increased the patrols towards the west, both north and south of the Blackwater and improved the earthen and wooden redoubt that guarded the Rosby Road shore.

What he lacked were trained soldiers. Stannis had taken most of them with him. Davos could muster perhaps ten thousand men, but many were those recovering from wounds taken in earlier battles, or had seen too many or two few winters, or hardly knew which end of a spear to trust at an enemy. He did have some good men, had a strong core of about three hundred knights and about three thousand veteran gold cloaks. But they would not be enough, he knew. He sent ravens off to Storm's End and asked that as many men as could be spared be sent to the capital at once.

Their one saving grace was the wildfire. Not all had been destroyed or used in the battles. King Stannis had taken some with him to the Riverlands, but that still left Davos with enough to counter an enemy attack. He also had the pyromancers at work making more, just in case.

During these frantic preparations one more thing occupied Ser Davos mind and that was the Queen. He begged her to sail back to Dragonstone, but she refused.

"No," she said at once. "The war is here. The Lord of Light requires all his servants to fight his enemies. The people need a royal presence in the capital. They will fight harder knowing they are defending their Queen and Princess."

"Aye, Your Grace," was all Davos could say, knowing Stannis would have all their heads if something happened to his family. He ordered his oldest son to prepare a fast ship to take away the Queen and Princess in case things did not go well. Thankfully they still controlled Blackwater Bay. The Tyrells had no navy he knew of except the Redwyne Fleet but they had reports of the Iron Fleet raiding the Reach and that would tie them up. And if not, it was still a long sail in increasingly bad weather from the Arbor to Blackwater Bay.

Four days after the Tyrell children escaped, Davos' cavalry patrols returned and said the Tyrell army was on the march, towards King's Landing.

That day it began to rain, heavily, and Davos hoped that would slow the Tyrells. But his hopes were soon dashed. The next morning as it still rained he sent out the regular dawn cavalry patrol but they scurried back a short time later and were soon through the Lion Gate and the captain reported the Tyrells nearby. Davos donned his armor and sword and went with his commanders to the Lion Gate.

The rain still fell, not as hard as at dawn, but making things wet and miserable. As they stood on the wall and stared off into the falling rain Davos thought he heard drums. Gradually the sound was clearer and they all heard the drums and the sound of men marching. Then the limp, wet flower covered banners and other colorful banners of the Reach came into view, followed by the long lines of men. Cavalry flanked them and long lines of archers took up position just out of bow shot from the walls. Men with picks and shovels scurried forward and began to dig trenches where the Lannister trenches had been a short while ago. The rains had softened the ground, making it easier to dig, but it also made the trenches prone to collapsing. They looked miserable out there, and Davos was glad his men were mostly under cover.

Davos put the Myrish spyglass he carried to his eye and scanned the formations until he found the command group. There he was, Ser Loras Tyrell, sitting tall in the saddle, resplendent in his armor, his hair wet, his eyes burning with hatred as he looked at the city. Ser Loras rode with his father and another man, strong looking, with a great sword strapped across his back. Davos had never met him but no doubt this was Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill, often considered one of the greatest commanders of men in Westeros, along with Robert and Lord Tywin Lannister. But they were both dead and now Lord Tarly was before his gates with a massive host.

"What do we do?" asked one of his commanders and Davos could sense the fear in his voice. He looked at them and they all had the same look, a look of dread. "They have three times our numbers," said another one. "Maybe more."

"Aye, and so did the Lannisters," Davos answered them. "We have high walls, plenty of wildfire, stocks of food, and the sea to bring in more. The rains are here, the cold winds and snows may soon come. If we fail, they will hang us for certain, brand us traitors, and wipe out our families. So we best not fail. My lords, prepare for siege."


	20. Chapter 20 Arya

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 20 – Arya**

The direwolf dream came to Arya Stark soon after the first heavy snowfall. She was walking through the forest on padded paws, her breath frosty in the winter air, the snow soft and cold under her feet, the scent of pine in her nose. There was another scent there as well, the scent of horses and men. She saw them from a distance, struggling through the snow, the men bundled in furs and the horses' manes' covered in snow. She also sensed some of her brethren nearby, and their howls at night made her feel oddly comforted.

She did not go near the men that first night but soon after she had the dream again and this time she came up to the edge of the forest near the men and saw their fire and walked into the light. And then she saw him.

He was sitting by the fire, trying to cook some meat over it on a stick. A tent was behind him, and his face was reflected in the firelight. It was a round face, with the beginnings of a scraggly beard. She knew that face and felt some sense of recognition but could not place it. He saw her then and he took out a dagger and held it tight but he said nothing. His eyes were wide and she sensed his fear. She padded to the fire and sat beside it and looked at him. And then he spoke.

"Hello. Are you a Stark direwolf? I'm Hot Pie." And Arya Stark howled at the night sky.

"Arya! Arya!" said a voice and she felt a slap on her face, a light slap, not hard and she woke up shuddering and with tears in her eyes and her throat felt raw. In the darkness she was not sure who it was but then realized it was her big sister Sansa, sitting on her bed, and Arya let out a cry and hugged her tight.

"Sansa! I had a dream!"

"Nymeria?" Sansa asked in a whisper as she pulled back and held Arya's shoulders.

"Yes…she's out there still….she found Hot Pie!"

But before Sansa could answer her the door to Arya's room opened and her mother and a guard were there, her mother with a lamp in her hand.

"Girls! What is all this noise? Half the castle is awake!" Catelyn Stark said in a rush as she came into the room.

"I…I had a bad dream," Arya said. Her mother dismissed the guard, placed the lamp on a side table and sat on the bed by Sansa.

"Arya…we heard a wolf howling," Catelyn Stark told her youngest daughter.

"It must have been me. I dreamed I was howling…Nymeria was howling, I mean."

"Gods," said Catelyn. "It sounded like a real wolf."

"It did?"

"Yes," Sansa said.

"I saw Hot Pie, and he knew it was me, and he said his name and Nymeria howled."

"Nymeria has been gone for three days now," Arya's mother reminded her. Nymeria had run out the east gate before Arya could stop her and she could not will her to come back. Arya had glimpses of her over the next few days, out hunting and being free for a while, but staying close to Winterfell.

"I know where she is, she's hunting. But she saw the men and followed them. Now he is coming here!"

"Who is coming?" her mother asked.

"Hot Pie!"

Sansa explained. "He was a boy who came from King's Landing with Father and Arya. The baker's boy. I met him at Harrenhal."

"Yes, I recall you mentioning him," said Catelyn. "He stayed behind at Harrenhal, did he not?"

"He did," Arya said. "But now he is here, in the North, nearby, out there with three others. And they are dying!"

She pulled the blankets off her and got out of bed.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked.

"Going to look for them."

"You most certainly are not!" her mother said in angry, standing and blocking the door. "It is the middle of the night and it is snowing again."

"It is?" Arya asked in surprised and she opened her shutters and a cold blast of air entered the room. It was dark and she could hardly see a thing outside her window except falling snow. "Oh."

She closed the shutters and crawled back into bed. "Now," began her mother as she sat beside Arya again. "I know that you have a…a power…you are…"

"A warg," Arya said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," her mother said quietly, looking a bit uncomfortable with this topic. "So…you saw him, this boy. Where is he?"

"I...I don't know exactly. Somewhere near the Kingsroad."

"He could be anywhere," said Sansa and Arya knew she was right but sensed they weren't far.

"No, they are close, I could feel it. We need to send men to find them. They are dying!"

"Who is with him?" her mother asked.

"I…I don't know. Three men. Soldiers they look like."

"Did they have any banners, any sigil?" Sansa asked.

"I…maybe. I don't know. They all wore furs."

Her mother took a deep breath. "Arya, I know you saw him. I believe you. But we must be cautious. You cannot tell anyone you have this power, that any of you have this power. I cannot send a party of men out into the storm to find someone without good cause. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but…he's dying."

"I'm sorry, my daughter, but that is my final word. Now go to bed and try to sleep. Sansa, come along."

But Arya could not sleep, and her mind was on fire with what she had seen. She lay in bed and closed her eyes and willed herself to reach Nymeria but could not. After a while she got up and took out Needle and did her practice moves, over and over, until she was tired and her stomach ached with a need for food. She got dressed and peaked out her shutters and saw that the snow was still falling but the sky was now dull grey instead of black. Dawn had come, but the clouds hid the sun's rising from all eyes.

She thought on Gendry then, as she did many times each day, and wondered how he was, what he was doing, and if he was fitting in well at the Wall. She knew her father and brothers would look out for him, and that made her feel better. They had a raven just three days ago, before the snows came, and her father had written that Gendry had made it to the Wall and was well. There was other news as well, news of a truce between the wildings and the men of the North and the Night's Watch. Also news that Beric Dondarrion had died in the fighting with the Others. Jeyne Poole had shed many tears when she had heard that news.

But the strangest news of all was that Jon Snow was now the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. There was no explanation other than that the men of the Watch had voted for Jon to be their commander. Old Ser Rodrik Cassel had said it must be a mistake when he heard the news, that Jon was too young and not a man of the Watch hardly a year, but Arya's mother showed him the letter and he just shook his head in wonder.

"I always new the lad would find a place in the world somewhere," he had said to Arya later. They were by the armory and Ser Rodrik was helping her select a new belt for Needle's scabbard. The original one was getting a bit tight around the hips these days. To Arya it seemed like she was getting taller and bigger and more womanly and she was glad of it.

"What do you mean?" Arya asked him after he had made his comments about Jon.

"Jon is good lad…man, I should say," he replied. "He's brave, and loyal, and would die for any one of us. All that rubbish about bastards being craven and untrustworthy is nonsense if you ask me."

"Please don't use that word," Arya said to him.

"What word? Bastard? Oh, cause of your man, is it?"

Arya turned red in the face. "What…I…what man?"

Ser Rodrik laughed. "Little Arya. I know more than you think. The whole castle knows, if truth be told. My Beth said all the young girls whisper about you and him. You spent all your time with him, you were near tears when he left, and you climbed to the highest battlements to see him go. So don't tell me he is not your man."

"Gods. If the Frey boys think…"

"Them two?" he interrupted her. "They haven't got the wit to figure it out. And don't worry. The maester reads any letters they send home, few that there are, so don't fret on that."

"I do fret. I can't help it." They had heard her praying in the godswood, praying for Gendry and asking the gods to return him safe to her so she could be his wife and have his children. She had hoped they believed her when she said they misunderstood. But maybe they hadn't.

"Aye," Ser Rodrik said with a nod. "Tis a worry…but for the future." He finished making the new belt suitable for her scabbard and gave it to her. She tried it on and it fit well. "There, that should do the trick. Off you go."

Now as Arya stood in her room looking out on the snow covered courtyard she worried once more on that very thing they had discussed. Her father said there would be no marriage until winter was come and gone. But winter was here now. She hoped it would be a long one, long enough for old Walder Frey to die, long enough for her father and Jon and Robb and Gendry to come home, long enough for her father to somehow break her betrothal to Elmar Frey.

Arya felt hungry and went down to the great hall and the kitchens off it. Gage and his cooks and helpers were already awake, making bread, and boiling eggs, and cooking a big pot of porridge for breakfast. Arya took a slice of bread and put some honey on it and ate it quick. As she cut another slice from the loaf she had a thought.

"Do you need any help here?" she asked Gage.

The big cook smiled at her. "If you'd like to peel the potatoes for the lunch I'd not say no, but your lady mother might have something to say about it."

Arya laughed. She had been coming to the kitchens since she was small and often helped and her mother always got mad at her. "No, not me. My friend," she told Gage. "He is coming to Winterfell. He's a baker's apprentice."

"Aye, we could use a hand," Gage told her and then stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "Your friend is a baker's apprentice?"

"Aye," she said. "I met him on the way home."

"Is he good?"

"The best."

"If you say so. Where is he now?"

"Coming to Winterfell."

Gage looked surprised. "In all this snow? Is he daft? No one and nothing will get up the Kingsroad unless they can walk on snow."

Arya knew he was right. She quickly ate the second slice of bread and then she went outside and stood in the falling snow and worried about Hot Pie. He had food, she saw, and a tent, and companions, but they all looked so miserable and frozen she was sure they were dying. She climbed up the stairs to the battlements, watching her footing on the freshly fallen snow. When she got to the top she stood and looked out across the winter town towards the Kingsroad and all she could see was white. She couldn't even make out where the road was.

Below smoke climbed from dozens of chimneys in the winter town. She saw a party of men chopping wood. Included in the party were the two ironmen prisoners, Pyke and Codd, who her father and mother told her to stay away from when they were outside their cells. Ser Rodrik was nearby with two guards, keeping an eye on the two prisoners. Other men were mending the thatching on the roof of a house. She raised her eyes again to the white wild beyond and felt an overwhelming need to be out there, looking for Hot Pie. He had to be on the Kingsroad, somewhere.

Arya's first instinct was to go look for him, alone if need be. But she knew that was dangerous and she knew her mother would be upset. She also didn't know who those men were with Hot Pie. If she went, she needed help. As she thought on Nymeria out their hunting, an idea began to form in her mind.

She found her mother and the rest of her family at breakfast and sat with them, shaking the snow off her boots and coat as she took it off.

"Where have you been?" her mother asked sharply as Arya sat down.

"On the battlements, looking over the Kingsroad," she told her.

"Hasn't Nymeria come back?" Bran asked.

"No," Arya said. "I'm worried."

"She's fine," Sansa said offhandedly. "She's a direwolf after all. That's where she belongs, out in the wilderness."

"It's too cold for her," Rickon said in worry. "Shaggy misses her!"

"So does Summer," Bran added.

Arya took a boiled egg from a basket and began to peel the shell off of it. "I might just go look for her," Arya said in an off-handed way.

She looked up and her mother was looking at her, a knowing look in her eyes. "I was thinking to send a hunting party," Catelyn Stark said and Arya smiled broadly. "When the snow ends," her mother quickly added.

"I can go with them?" Arya asked.

"Yes."

"Me, too!" yelled Rickon.

"Not this time," Catelyn told him. "It's too much snow and too dangerous."

"But she's just a girl!" Rickon whined.

"More man than you!" Arya shot back and her mother gave a disapproving look. Arya mumbled 'sorry' and the matter was at an end.

The next morning the snow stopped and after breakfast Ser Rodrik assembled a hunting party. They put on snow shoes and took spears and bows and arrows. Arya got a small bow and quiver of arrows. She knew how to use it but was no expert, but felt better having it. Of course, Needle came with her as always.

The two ironmen prisoners, Pyke and Codd, were cutting wood again outside the gates and asked to join the hunt. They no longer wore chains on their feet, a sign of the trust they were building with the people of Winterfell, but Ser Rodrik was not one to let them forget they were still prisoners.

"Aye, you can come," said Ser Rodrik. "But you two run away I'll run you down and gut you.

Codd spit. "Run away? In all this vast white nothingness? Not a chance. You wouldn't need to run us down."

"Aye," said Pyke. "With all this snow you don't need any prison cells for us."

They left by the east gate and headed for the Kingsroad. As they walked a party of four men on horses came behind them, to run down any game that tried to run away. Three more men carried spears and Ser Rodrik and Arya both carried their swords and bows. The two ironmen were given no weapons and carried some supplies. Pyke carried some food and wine in sacks and Codd carried a bundle of cut wood on his back to make a fire in case they had to spend too much time out here.

"Nothing like a good hunt," Ser Rodrik said as he and Arya walked gingerly on top of the snow in front of the others. The snow shoes were made of flexible tree branches formed in ovals with catgut woven into a tight net in the middle. Leather tongs tied the shoes to one's boots. While wearing them they could easily walk on top of the snow.

"The last time I went hunting was before your father and you and Lady Sansa went to King's Landing," Ser Rodrik continued. "That was when King Robert was here."

"That was when Bran got hurt," Arya said, remembering the horror of that day with a shudder.

"Aye."

"So much has happened since then."

"Aye, it has."

They walked a bit more and soon reached where Ser Rodrik thought the Kingsroad must be.

"Nymeria's still out here," Arya said to him as they stood looking north and south.

"She is. And so is your friend."

That surprised her. "Mother told you?"

"She did."

"And…what else did she tell you? About…about how I know he is out here."

"She didn't tell me. Your father did, before he left."

"What did he tell you?"

"Things I didn't believe at first," Ser Rodrik answered. "But when I heard the stories on how Robb died and came back and I saw the way those direwolves were with you all, I wondered. I heard such tales before, from Old Nan and my mother as well. Your father gave me the truth of it when I asked. Your mother knows I know."

"And you're not scared of us?"

Ser Rodrik laughed. "Sacred? Gods no, little one. But I tell you this much. That day we found the direwolf pups…that was the day it all started. All this madness that is going on now. Something is happening in the world. It's changing. There's talk of dragons in the east and Others at the Wall. Something is happening."

Arya knew he was right. Something was happening. "These dragons. Who has them?" She had heard little of this except what rumors floated to Winterfell.

"The stories say she is a Targaryen princess. The Mad King's daughter."

"She'll want the Iron Throne back, won't she?"

"Aye, if she can get to Westeros she will at that."

"My father helped defeat her father, didn't he?"

"Aye, he did. So did I and many others. But she is far away so don't worry none on that. Now, can you find your pet?"

"I can try," Arya said as she closed her eyes and searched with her mind but nothing came to her. "No, she's not near."

"Then let's head over to that stand of forest, other side of the Kingsroad. No one's hunted there in a while. Maybe we'll find a few rabbits or even better a deer."

They trudged though the snow, the men on horse having a harder time than those on foot. A cold wind was blowing, spraying the snow in their faces, and more than once Codd and Pyke cursed the cold and the snow.

"Don't you have bad winters on the Iron Islands?" Arya asked them.

"Winter, aye," said Pyke. "The storms build the oceans high and the cold winds blow and the freezing rain lashes man and land alike. We might get a sprinkle or two of snow but we never see snow like this."

"Rubbish," said Codd. "My old grandmother said one winter the snow was piled higher than a ship's mast and the ocean froze over. The fish walked out of the water and came and sat by the fires with the people and said they weren't going back swimming till spring came."

Arya laughed loud and hard at that tale and so did Ser Rodrik. Arya was just getting her breath back when suddenly it hit her, the overwhelming sense that Nymeria was near. She was caught off guard, and could not control her reactions. Her breath caught and her eyes rolled back in her head and before she knew it she was falling.

Moments later Ser Rodrik was helping her up. "There you go, little lady. Just a bad tumble," he said aloud. He had seen her face when she fell and was covering for her and now he looked worried. "What is it?" he whispered.

"Nymeria, she's chasing a…"

"DEER!" yelled Pyke and they all looked to where he was pointing and there was a deer, bounding through the snow, coming out of the forest, straight for them, and right behind it was Nymeria, leaping after her prey.

Ser Rodrik unslung his bow and notched an arrow and Arya did the same. The spear men formed a line, spears thrust out in front of them. But before the deer could get within bow shot and spear range Nymeria was on it. With a growl the direwolf leaped at the deer and grabbed its rear left leg. The jaws snapped and bit deep and in a flash the deer was tumbling over in the snow. Nymeria leaped for the throat and clamped on tight and shook her head back and forth as the snow turned red with blood.

Arya tasted the overwhelming rush of blood and raw flesh in her mouth and fell to her knees in the snow. For a moment she was inside Nymeria, gnashing her teeth, savoring the warm flesh, feeling the life leave this once living creature.

"It's going to eat it all," said Pyke in disappointment.

"No," said Arya and then she willed Nymeria to stop. It was hard and Nymeria's instincts were to keep eating but Arya's hold on her was strong this close together and gradually Nymeria let go of the now dead deer.

"Nymeria! To me!" Arya shouted and the direwolf hesitated, looked to Arya and then back to the deer, and then bounded through the snow to her side, blood dripping off her teeth and snout, reddening the white snow more.

"Bloody hell," said Codd as he spit again. He stared at Arya, a look of almost fear in his eyes. "What are you girl?"

"Just Lady Stark to you," Ser Rodrik said with growl. "And best you not forget that."

He walked through the snow with the other men and they began to gut and prepare the deer for transport. They pulled out the soft inner organs and threw them on the snow.

Arya kept a hand on Nymeria and felt her wanting to eat and then said "Go" and Nymeria bounded over to where they were gutting the deer and began to attack the soft inner organs that now lay on the snow.

"No, stop her!" shouted Codd. "Them's the best parts!"

"It's her kill," Arya told him. "She needs to eat as well."

"We got few deer left on the Iron Islands but I always loved the taste," Pyke said. "Fried deer liver tastes good." His voice had a sense of longing.

"Aye," said Arya as she felt the taste in her mouth again. "Raw as well."

Pyke looked at her oddly and Arya knew she had said too much. "In the Iron Islands some men say they can talk to the mermaids," Pyke told her. "Old men, drunk men, fools that live in caves by the shore. Sometimes sailors who have been lost at sea and found again. But no one believes them."

"There are no real mermaids," Arya said. "They're just a story, aren't they?"

"So they say," Pyke answered. "No one's ever caught one. But I heard people at the castle say there were no more direwolves until Lord Stark and your brothers found the ones you now have as pets."

"That's true."

"Maybe someone will find a mermaid soon as well." Pyke answered and then Ser Rodrik was calling him and Codd to come help carry the deer. They went over to the deer and helped carry it on a spear that was shoved through its carcass. And then Ser Rodrik said they should all go back as it was getting more snowy and colder and Arya reluctantly agreed. She looked down the Kingsroad and all she saw was snowdrifts and swirling snow and nobody there. Hot Pie…where are you? she wanted to shout but did not.

As they started to walk back to the castle the snow began to fall again and they all felt numb from the cold. Nymeria walked by Arya's side and kept eyeing the deer carcass and growling in a low tone.

"I'll make sure you get a nice haunch when we get back to the castle," Arya promised and Nymeria then licked her hand as if she had understood.

Suddenly Nymeria growled and bounded away through the snow, heading down the Kingsroad.

"Nymeria!" Arya shouted but she didn't come back. Arya ran after her and Ser Rodrik shouted to her and ran after her as well.

And then she saw them, hidden behind a high snow drift, four men, one running in front of the others, shouts indistinguishable in the blowing wind. And that's how she found Hot Pie.

A long time later, back at Winterfell, it was nighttime and she sat in a room by a bed with a fire in the hearth nearby. Hot Pie was sleeping, snoring lightly. She had brought him some deer stew but he still slept and so she put the tray by his bed and just sat in the chair and looked at the fire.

He had said very little when she found him, but the others had talked. Royce, Maron, and Jason they named themselves, all King Stannis' men. Going to the Wall they said, King Stannis' orders. They admitted to being petty thieves, and were given a choice to take the black or have their hands cut off. Hot Pie was ordered to the Wall as well, they told her, for his crimes in King's Landing.

"Hot Pie is no criminal," Arya said aloud to herself as she sat by the fire.

"Yes, I am," came a weak voice from the bed as Hot Pie sat up. Arya rushed to his side and helped him sit up properly and get comfortable. "I'm starving," he said next.

"There's stew," she told him. "Bit cold now. I can get…"

"No, it's fine," he told her and began to eat with gusto. He did look thinner and more wan than when she last saw him.

"Hot Pie…those men said King Stannis ordered you to go to the Wall."

He nodded and between bites of food he began to tell the story, all of it, about everything that happened to him since she and Gendry left him at Harrenhal. He even told her about a girl he met, named Sheila, and that he was in love.

"That's grand, Hot Pie," she said with a big smile.

He was smiling as well, but then his face fell. "She's still with the army. They're going to attack the Lannisters."

"They'll beat them, I just know it," Arya said with conviction. "And then when the war is over my father will ask King Stannis to pardon you and all will be well."

"He will? That…that would be great. Then…can Sheila come here?"

"Of course," Arya told him.

Hot Pie smiled and then his face fell again. "But I still have to go to the Wall."

"No," Arya told. "My mother said you can stay here until the weather is better. And by the looks of things that might be a while."

He sighed and leaned back on his pillows. "That would be great. The trip here was awful."

"Why didn't you turn back?"

"It was too late. We were already three days past Moat Cailin when the snows came. And I thought we were close to Winterfell. None of us been here before, so we kept on going."

"Those men, Hot Pie. Are they real criminals?"

"They just stole some wine to have a drink. Well, Maron and Jason did and Royce was their mate so he got mixed up in it."

"Sent to the Wall for stealing some wine?" She thought that was a bit harsh and said so.

"King Stannis is a hard man, Arya. Fair, but hard."

"He'll pardon you. I just know it."

"I hope so." He ate a bit more and then looked up at her. "Where's Gendry?"

Arya couldn't help but look worried. "He's at the Wall with my father and Robb. They needed an armorer so he went."

"Gods," was all Hot Pie said. "So…what happened to you since Harrenhal?"

She told him it all, about the fights and the wedding and finding Winterfell burning, about Theon Greyjoy's attack, and about Robb and Ramsey Snow, her father going to the Wall and then Gendry soon after, she told him everything. Well, not everything. She didn't tell him about kissing Gendry or that they were in love. But he seemed to know something was going on between them already.

"He told me at Harrenhal that he liked you a lot," Hot Pie said to her, his voice low, like it was a big secret, which it was in a way.

"Oh? Ah…yeah…and I like him as well." She knew her face was getting red and so turned away, went to pick up his now empty tray, said nothing else about it and neither did he. She was about to leave when Maester William came in.

"Right. Let's have a look," he said and he took the blankets off of Hot Pie. Maester William examined Hot Pie's feet closely. "Color looks good." He took a small knife and touched all of his toes one by one with the sharp tip, asking "Feel that?" at each toe.

"Yes," Hot Pie said each time the blade touched him, making him wince.

"Good. Then there is no frostbite. Your friend Maron was not so lucky. I had to take two toes off his left foot."

"That's terrible," said Hot Pie in worry.

"He'll live, not to worry. Might walk funny for the rest of his life but he'll live."

Arya said goodnight to Hot Pie and left him and took the tray down to the kitchens . Maester William walked with her.

"Your friend is lucky," he said. "That tall one, Royce, he said they had to kill all their horses just to eat and…"

But he never finished talking. They reached the bottom of the stairs and Arya's mother was there, a worried look on her face. "Maester, we need have words."

"Of course, Lady Stark."

"Is everything fine, Mother?" Arya asked.

"Not to worry. How is the boy?"

"Good. Awake and talking. No frostbite."

"That is good. Maester."

They walked away and Arya went into the kitchens. She dropped the tray and dishes off to be washed. She went into the great hall and saw Roslin and Sansa sitting there, drinking tea and talking. They also had a small wooden board with cheese on it and a small knife to cut it. Arya sat with them.

"How is he?" Roslin asked.

"Well," she said. "Good thing we found them or they'd be all dead."

"Ser Rodrik is worried about those other three," Sansa said. "They said they were criminals!"

"Not really," Arya replied and she told them what Hot Pie had said.

"It doesn't matter what they did," Roslin said after Arya finished. "King Stannis sent them to the Wall so they must go."

"Hot Pie doesn't belong on the Wall," Arya shot back. "He's no soldier!"

"None of our men belong on the Wall, Arya," Roslin said in a gentle tone. "But if no man goes there, who will stop the Others?"

Arya had no answer to that. "It's just…it's just not fair. Hot Pie never hurt anyone. He stole food cause he was hungry. He promised to take the black because they were going to hang him. All for two apples."

"No, it's not fair," agreed Sansa. "Mother said they won't go to the Wall till the snow stops."

Just then the door to the great hall opened and a man staggered in. He had shaggy, unkempt blond hair and a scraggly mustache. It was Maron. He was limping and carried a wine skin in his hand. He tried to drink from it but it appeared empty. He sat heavily at a table.

"Wine!" he shouted. "Bring me more wine!"

Right behind him entered a tall man with brown hair, Royce. He grabbed his companion by the shoulder. "Come…back to bed with you."

"Fuck off!" shouted Maron. "I want to get good and gloriously drunk!"

"You already are," said Royce and then he looked up and saw the three women looking at them. "Forgive me, my ladies. I will take him back to his room."

"Who are you?" Sansa asked.

"I know who they are," said Arya as she stood. "They were with Hot Pie. Royce, yes?"

"Aye, my lady," he said with a dip of his head. "You found us and saved us. I thank you for that."

"Thank the little lady!" yelled Maron.

"Maron is his name," said Roslin to Sansa, her eyes narrowing in distaste as she looked at the drunken man. "I helped the maester remove his frozen toes."

"Frozen toes!" Maron yelled. "All gone. All for a bastard the King wants!"

Arya felt a cold shudder go through her. "What did he say?"

Royce shrugged. "He's drunk. Talking nonsense."

"Where's my parchment?" Maron yelled. "I'll show you all. I am a king's man. King Stannis' man!"

Then the third man came into the great hall and so did Gage with a big meat cleaver, coming from the kitchens.

"Ah, here's my friends. Drinking without me?" said the one Arya knew was called Jason. He seemed a bit drunk as well.

"You lot best get back to your rooms if you know what's good for you," Gage growled at them, brandishing the cleaver. Arya picked up the knife by the cheese board and Sansa gave a little gasp. Arya stood by Gage.

"Not yet," Arya said. "I want them to explain what Maron just said. About a bastard the king wants."

Ser Rodrik came in then with four armed men. "What's all this noise?" he shouted. "You three. I told you to stay in your room in the barracks. Don't listen so well, do you? Well, maybe I'll throw you in the dungeons with the ironmen."

"He's just drunk," said Royce.

"Then he can sleep it off in a cell," Ser Rodrik said. He nodded to his men and they moved to grab Maron and started to haul him away.

"Gentle," Maron moaned. "I'm a maimed man." His head lolled and his eyes went back in his head.

"No, wait!" Arya said and she ran up to Maron but he was already passed out. They dragged him off.

"You two back in your room or you'll get the same," Ser Rodrik ordered.

Arya looked at the other two, eyes glaring. "I saved your lives. Tell me want he meant!"

Jason looked confused. "What are we talking about?"

Royce shook his head. "He's just drunk, my lady. We thank you for our lives."

Arya turned to Ser Rodrik. "Tell them to answer me!"

Ser Rodrik had an uncomfortable look on his face. "Now, just nevermind all this, my lady. They just had a hard time and had a bit too much to drink. Come on, you two, let's go. Back to your room or you can join your friend in the cells." They left the great hall.

By now Roslin and Sansa were by her side. "Seven hells," Sansa said. "What's that all about?"

Roslin looked at Arya, worry on her face. "He can't have meant Gendry."

"He said the king wants a…a bastard," Arya said, feeling mad for having to say that word she hated. "What other is there?"

"Jon," said Sansa right away.

"Jon…he can't have meant Jon. He's at the Wall. They…Hot Pie will know!"

But Hot Pie didn't know. "No, they never said anything to me about that. But the King's red woman wanted to know about Gendry when I told the King he was my friend."

"The King's…what?"

"His red woman. Mel…Melisa…something. I told you a bit about her. She wears all red and has red hair. The story is she is a red priestess from the east. Folk said she can do sorcery. She prays to the Lord of Light."

"So does Thoros of Myr. But why does she want to know about Gendry?"

"Don't know."

"What about those three? Did they ask you about Gendry?"

"No…well, yes, now that I think on it. They asked me about him and Harrenhal and our trip from King's Landing. Just talk, to pass the time. That's all."

Arya did not sleep well that night. She felt people were hiding something from her. She was determined to find out what was going on. She woke up early as usual and strapped on Needle and went to the cells, where Maron was. But when she got there he was gone. The guards told her he was taken back to his rooms by the maester's orders last night, saying he was not fit to keep in the cold cells.

Arya was about to leave the cell block when she heard a voice. "Little lady."

She turned and there was Pyke's face at the bars over his small window on his cell door. "Morning," she said to him.

"Morning," he answered. "Snowing today?"

"No."

"Good, mighty cold in here already."

She was about to leave when he said something that stopped her cold. "I know they want the bastard."

Arya felt that cold shudder pass through her again. "Tell me."

Now Codd was at the window as well. "We tell you we want something in return."

"What?"

"Our freedom," Codd said and Arya laughed and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Pyke shouted. "Just…more comfort, that's all. A better room and at least a fire, or a brazier. Anything. We'll be dead soon if we stays in here."

"You attacked the North. This is your punishment."

"Aye, it 'tis," said Pyke in a resigned manner.

Codd snorted at his cellmate. "Tell your Ser Rodrik I'd like another cell, away from this craven."

Pyke just shook his head. "We did things your way we'd be dead by now, Codd."

"What is dead may never die," Codd said and then he had a coughing fit that doubled him over.

"See? He's ill already," Pyke said. "Must have been all that cold air and walking yesterday. Not good for a man cooped up most of the time to suddenly exert himself. I'll be sick too, before long."

"All right," Arya began. "I'll get you a better place to stay, and the maester will look after him. But you have to tell me first. Why does the King want the bastard?"

"I have your word?" Pyke asked.

"My word as a Stark," she said solemnly.

"Aye," said Pyke. "That fellow that was here next door last night. He was drunk and raving on and on about how he lost his toes to the cold all for some bastard the King wants."

"I know this," Arya said impatiently. "But why does the King want him?"

"I yelled for him to shut it and he went on and on about the King's red woman was going to burn him if he don't find the bastard, and how she told them not to tell the baker's boy."

"Did he say the bastard's name? Does he know his name?"

"Said he was a blacksmith called…called…"

"Gendry?" Arya asked in a quivering voice.

"That's it. Big fellow was working on the winter town with us. I helped him fix them doors on the sept. Gone to the Wall, is he not?"

"Yes," Arya said. "What else did he say?"

"The parchment," Codd squeaked out between coughs and trying to catch his breath.

"Right," said Pyke. "Said he had a parchment, King's orders and all that. Guaranteed safety for him and his men."

Gods, they had Stannis' orders to find Gendry and bring him to the King.

"But…why?"

"He didn't say," Pyke told her. "Maybe he doesn't know."

Arya thanked them and promised to help them and left the cell block. Upstairs in the cold air the clouds were parting and for the first time in days the sun came out. The snow was piled high around the courtyard and on the walls and battlements. Nymeria came bounding across the courtyard and came to her side.

"Gendry's in trouble, Nymeria," she said as she ruffled her fur. Nymeria whined a bit, sensing her anger and frustration. She knew not what to do. They had the King's orders. If that was so, what power did she have to stop them? She could send a warning to Gendry at the Wall, but then what could he do? Run away? In the winter, with all of the kingdom looking for him?

Why not? It worked before. He had run from King's Landing when Joffrey wanted him dead. But this felt different. Her father had defied Joffrey's orders and protected Gendry. Would he do the same to King Stannis? Her father believed Stannis was the rightful king. And that might make all the difference.

Then she remembered her promise to the ironmen and she went to the maester's tower, thinking on what to do as she walked. Nymeria stayed outside as she climbed the stairs. Arya was still thinking and walked in without knocking and got a shock. Bran lay on the maester's bed and his legs were exposed as the maester examined them. For the first time she really saw how badly damaged his legs were and she could not help but gasp aloud.

"Gods!"

They looked over at her and Bran was mad. "Get out!"

"No, let her stay," Maester William said. "Come closer, Arya. Take a long look."

She stepped toward the bed and saw where the bones had been broken and could not set properly despite all Maester Luwin's skill.

"The left ankle was shattered," Maester William said. "So the left foot is at this odd angle. The right knee was as well, so it is twisted sideways. Maester Luwin is a great healer, but all the maesters in Westeros could not have done more. He saved your brother's life, and his legs, and that is a miracle in itself."

"Is this why Bran can't walk?"

"My back is broken," Bran said in angry. "You know that!"

"I…yes. I do," she said, feeling foolish. Her father had explained it all after Bran's accident.

Maester William explained more. "His lower backbones broke as well and snapped the…well…inside, it is like a rope. We don't understand it all, but this rope is a bundle of substance that goes from the body to the brain. It helps the brain tell the body what to do. We think it does anyways. And when this rope breaks…"

"The body doesn't know what to do," Bran finished for him.

"Can't he ever walk again?" Arya asked.

"No," said Maester William quietly.

"Jojen said I would fly," Bran said. "If I went north of the Wall."

The maester sighed. "Jojen said many things Bran. But he is gone, you are here, and the Wall is far away and a dangerous place."

"Jojen said he would fly," Arya repeated. "Why doesn't anyone believe him?"

"Because he is just a boy," Bran said in anger. "No one cares what children say. And no one cares what happens to me."

"We all care, Bran," the maester said. "But if you try to go to the Wall only the gods know what would happen."

"Then he should go," Arya said, and Bran brightened and smiled at her when she said this.

"Arya, your mother would not like such talk," Maester William said, his black bushy eyebrows scrunched up in worry.

"I know…but…things are happening in the world, maester. We are all wargs, the Others are at the Wall, and dragons are in the east. Maybe soon even the mermaids will sing to the sailors."

"What? Mermaids?"

"Like in the stories," Bran said with a grin.

"Yes, things are happening in the world," Maester William told them. "But your parents said Bran could not go to the Wall and that is the end of it. Please do not bring it up again."

Just then Hodor came and collected Bran to take him to breakfast. After they were gone, Master William sat Arya down and gave her a serious look. "It is not good to encourage him in these fantasies."

"Is it better for him to think he will never walk again?"

"Arya…he will never walk again."

"So you say. What if…"

"No. There are no what ifs. His body is broken and nothing can help him."

Arya nodded and decided to put that aside. "If you say so."

He stared at her for a moment and nodded. "Good. Now what can I do for you?"

"One of the ironmen, Codd, he's sick. He needs help."

"I'll take a look at him."

"Also, those cells are too cold. They should be in warmer rooms now."

Maester William nodded. "Yes. I'll speak to Ser Rodrik about it."

"Good. Thank you."

"Was there anything else?"

"No…just…I'm worried. About Gendry. I think those three men with Hot Pie want to take Gendry to King Stannis."

He was clearly taken aback by the change in topic. "Ah…I have no idea what you are talking about."

Now she knew for certain. His face told her he did know. "Yes, you do!"

"Arya…"

"Tell me!"

"I…I made a promise to your mother. I…"

But she was up and out of the tower in a heartbeat and flying down the stairs with his shouts for her to stop following her. She ran across the snowy courtyard and Master William was on her heels. Soon they were at the great hall and she saw her mother and Sansa and brothers and Roslin at breakfast. At a nearby table were the Frey boys, Jeyne Poole, Beth Cassel, Hodor, and some other children of the castle. Other tables were occupied as well.

She ran right up to her mother. "Tell me why they want him," she demanded.

Her mother was about to speak when she saw the maester behind her. Her face turned angry and Arya spoke quickly. "He didn't tell me. I heard those men last night. That one Maron was drunk. "

"Sansa and Roslin have told me," Catelyn Stark replied. She took a deep breath and stood. "Come with me, Arya. You as well Maester William."

They went back to his tower. Arya kept asking her mother questions but she refused to answer until they were inside the tower room and Arya was sitting and was calm.

"Show her," she said to the maester and he took out a scroll and handed it to Arya.

"Do you see that seal?" Catelyn Stark said.

"Yes."

"It's King Stannis'. Ser Rodrik found this in the saddle bags one of those men carried. He took it to me right away and I showed Maester William. Read it. Aloud."

Arya read and her eyes got wide and before she was done tears were falling from them.

"A royal warrant, sighed and sealed by King Stannis Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Land."

She took a breath and continued.

"I hereby order the arrest of Gendry Waters, a common blacksmith's apprentice of King's Landing, now residing at Winterfell. He is to be clapped in chains and taken to wherever the King is located with all due haste. The men carrying this order are guaranteed safe passage throughout the kingdoms. All will aid them in any way possible. Failure to do so will result in the severest punishment. Failure to comply with this arrest warrant will result in the severest of punishment."

At the bottom was the King's signature and seal. Arya put down the parchment and lifted her watery eyes to her mother. "Why?" she gasped and then her mother hugged her tight and held her as she cried.

"I know not, my sweet child," her mother whispered. As her mother hugged her Arya could feel the bulge in her mother's belly where her new brother or sister was now growing. It was not fair. Would Arya ever know what it was like to carry a child for the man she loved?

"They know," Arya said, her voice suddenly strong, knowing what she had to do. She wiggled out of her mother's grasp and leaped for the door but Maester William was already blocking it.

"Get out of my way!" she yelled at him but he just stood there.

"Arya, be calm!" her mother said.

Arya whirled on her. "Be calm! They want to kill him!"

"We don't know that! There could be many reasons the King wants him."

"Arrested? Clapped chains?" Arya said.

Her mother sighed. "It…it is not good."

"It's because he's Robert's son!" Arya shouted. "Stannis is just like Joffrey. He wants to kill all Robert's bastards! Just so he can have that ugly iron chair to himself!"

She was breathing hard and no one said anything and she took that as a sign they agreed with her. She sat and wiped her eyes. "I won't let them take him," she said quietly, the anger leaving her, now replaced by despair.

"Arya, we may have no choice," Maester William said.

She looked up at her mother and her silence and the look of despair on her face told Arya it all.

"Gods, no," Arya said, almost in tears again.

Her mother sat with her. "We know very little right now, my daughter. But he is at the Wall and they are here. And they will not be going to the Wall anytime soon. I will write to your father and tell him all. He will know what to do."

"We can't let them leave Winterfell. Ever," Arya said.

The word 'ever' hung in the air and Arya knew what she had to do. Her mother must have sensed it and saw the look in her eye and was aghast.

"No, Arya! You cannot do that!"

Maester William seemed to understand as well. "Arya, it matters not if they never leave Winterfell. King Stannis will send more men. And if he finds out Gendry is at the Wall he will send a direct order there to arrest him."

Arya knew they were right. She felt utter despair once more, but also anger. "I want to know why. I want to talk to them. I won't hurt them. I promise."

Her mother looked at her for a long moment and then nodded once. "Come. We must find out what they know."

They found Ser Rodrik and he came with them as well. The three men were housed in the barracks in a room made for four, with two sets of bunk beds on opposite walls. Maron was lying on the lower left one, his foot wrapped in bandages, seemingly asleep. Jason and Royce sat on the lower right one, talking about something. They stopped as they saw who was at the door. The two healthy men stood and dipped their heads.

"Lady Stark," they said together.

Catelyn stared at them and gave them a cold look. "You are being treated well, yes?"

"Very well, my lady," said Royce, looking uncomfortable under her stare.

She looked over at Maron, who now had his eyes opened but he did not get up. "Your foot is well?"

"Well?" he said with a snort. "Yes, my lady, well as it ever shall be short two toes."

Ser Rodrik stepped over to him. "Sit up you cur and show respect to this lady who took your miserable hide in and to her daughter who saved your life."

Maron hesitated just a second and Ser Rodrik raised a meaty fist and the small man was soon sitting up and dipping his head. "Forgive me, my ladies," he said but he didn't sound sincere.

"You sound like a man who thinks he has someone protecting him," Catelyn said to him. She turned to Willam and he gave her the parchment. Maron's eyes went wide.

"That's mine!" he said as he tried to rise from the bunk.

Ser Rodrik punched him in the chest and Maron went back on the bunk, the breath knocked out of him. Royce and Jason gasped but did nothing else.

"Hit him again if he says a word," Catelyn Stark said to Ser Rodrik.

"With pleasure, my lady." Arya hoped the next punch killed him.

She turned to the other two. "Do you know what this says?"

"No, my lady," said Royce. "We can't read. Neither can Maron."

"Gods," Catelyn said with a sigh. "Three fools on a fool's errand."

"Them's the King's words…my lady," said Jason.

"Why?" Arya asked suddenly. "Why does he want Gendry?"

"We know not," Royce explained. "He was going to cut off our hands for thievery and said we could take the black instead. Then the day before we left he called us to his tent with him and his red woman. Melisandre is her name but everyone calls her the red woman…or worse."

"What did she say?" Catelyn asked.

"She said they needed this boy, the blacksmith, and that the King would pardon us if we found him and brought him back. That's all, my lady."

"You're lying!" Arya shouted. "Why do they want him?"

"We know not," said Royce. "I swear it on the Seven and the old gods and the lives of my wife and two children."

"_She_ said she needed him?" Catelyn Stark asked. "Not the King?"

Jason spoke up. "Yes, that was the way of it. Said she needed him, my lady."

"Tell me more of her."

Jason and Royce looked at each other and seemed afraid. "She…she has powers, my lady," said Jason. "Before we attacked the Tyrells she sent a cloud of fire over their camp."

Royce added to the tale. "Men whisper that it was her that killed Tywin Lannister, not an assassin."

"Gods," swore Ser Rodrik "Is she a witch?"

"Worse," said Maron and he flinched but Ser Rodrik did not hit him.

"Explain," Catelyn said to Maron.

"She was burning prisoners in King's Landing. Not to make them talk. Just cause they were Lannisters, my lady. Sacrifices for her god, she said. I think she just liked to hear them scream. Maybe she'll make this blacksmith bastard scream as well when she burns him."

He laughed when he said it and Arya's mind went blank and she reeled in horror. "No…she can't have him! NO!"

Before she knew it Needle was out and in her hand. Maron died first, Needle thrusting into his heart. As his scream filled the air, Ser Rodrik recoiled in horror and Maron's blood spurted across Ser Rodrik's surcoat.

"ARYA!" her mother yelled in shock. "STOP!"

As her mother's voice came from somewhere far away, Arya turned into a water dancer. In a flash she spun and struck Jason under the chin, driving Needle up and into his face and brain. As she pulled the slender blood-stained blade out of Jason his scream was cut off as blood filled his throat and he fell and died on the floor moments later. She turned to Royce but by now Ser Rodrik had recovered from his surprise and had his two big arms wrapped around her and she couldn't move. He knocked Needle out of her hand and it fell with a clatter to the floor.

"NOOOO! Let me kill him!" Arya cried as Royce recoiled towards the door and Maester William dragged him out of the room. Other soldiers in the barracks had heard the commotion and had come running, weapons drawn.

"ARYA!" her mother screamed. "Gods, child! What have you done?"

The battle fever was on her now and her mind was crystal clear. "Killing my enemies!" she said.

Her mother stared at her in horror and then turned to Ser Rodrik. "Take her away."

"Where?" Ser Rodrik asked as he was struggling to hold the squirming Arya.

Catelyn Stark took a deep breath. "A cell. Put her in a cell. Now!"

Ser Rodrik hesitated for just a moment and then dragged Arya past her mother and out the door.

"He has to die!" Arya shouted as she saw Royce outside, the tall man's eyes wide with horror. "He has to die!" she shouted once more as Ser Rodrik dragged a kicking and screaming Arya away from the room, the blood on her hands shining bright red.


	21. Chapter 21 Catelyn

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 21 Catelyn**

The stone floor of the sept at Winterfell was cold and hard but Catelyn Stark hardly felt it as she knelt before the small seven statues that had been recently carved to replace the larger ones the ironmen had desecrated. She had been here for a long time, asking the gods to forgive what her daughter had done, and also seeking answers on what to do next. She now knelt before the crone, asking silently for wisdom. So far she received no answers, other than the advice she had gotten from Ser Rodrik and Maester William soon after the incident. They advocated one thing and one thing only, and she had to agree, knowing she could do nothing else.

The horror of what Arya had done was still vivid in her mind. She had seen men die during her lifetime, Maester Luwin most recently, and then Ramsey Snow, and even Robb had died for a short time, and her heart had almost broken in two when she saw that. She had seen Bronn kill Ser Vardis, and had seen Bronn and Tyrion Lannister and Ser Rodrik kill those wild men that had attacked them on the road to the Vale. She had heard the fight for the Whispering Wood and had seen the wounded and dead afterwards. She even helped the wounded, including Gendry, after the ironmen had attacked them on the way home. So blood and violence were no strangers to her. But Arya…she was just a girl and her daughter at that. Gods…she had done it so quickly and without a shred of remorse. She knew Arya had killed before, but that had been to defend herself and others. This…this was nothing but murder.

After Ser Rodrik had dragged Arya away she told Maester William to put Royce in a nearby room and ordered two soldiers to stand guard outside the door to the room where the dead men were. She waited outside for Ser Rodrik to return, and he came back quickly, the armory where the cells were being not far from the barracks. He said Arya had calmed herself and walked into the cell block and the two guards had looks of utter disbelief on their faces. She knew she would have to deal with them later. Maester William returned soon as well and then they made their plans. She did not like it but it was all they could do, for the moment. After it was decided she left the men to carry out the plan and then she had gone to the sept to light some candles and pray.

"Lady Stark," said Ser Rodrik quietly from behind her.

She sighed and knew it was time to face the world again and all her problems. She tried to stand and now she felt the pain in her knees and had trouble. The old knight was quickly at her side helping her up and then she nodded that she was fine.

"What is the time?" she asked.

"It's just before the lunch hour, my lady."

"What news, Ser Rodrik?" she asked in a heavy voice.

"It is done, my lady. The Silent Sisters have taken them."

Even though she had made the final decision, she worried about it. "Perhaps we should have burned them, as Maester William suggested."

"Burying is better, my lady. Fire would arouse suspicion. We couldn't do it here and if the bones were found there would be questions about them being burned. This way, if the King ever wants to see the bodies we can dig them up and show him how they died and he would not be suspicious."

"But will he and others believe it?" she asked.

"The story is spreading, my lady," Ser Rodrik said. "You accosted Maron for his drunkenness last night. He was still drunk and in his anger pulled a dagger on you and I killed him. Jason tried to help his friend and Arya killed him. Who is to say it wasn't like that? Only a few of us know the whole truth. The men at the barracks saw little. I told them Arya was worried the other one was going to attack you, which is why she screamed at him. They are loyal men. These men were all picked by Lord Stark, my lady, or they would not be here. They will not talk and they will not question it."

"Let us hope so. Where is the third one now?"

"In a barracks room, under guard."

They were silent for a moment and then she asked the next dreaded question. "Where is she?"

"Where you told me to put her."

The cells. "Has she asked for me?"

"No, my lady."

"Has she asked for anyone?"

"No, my lady. The guards say she hasn't made a sound since I took her there. She is not sleeping either. They say she is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall of the cell with her eyes closed as if deep in thought."

Catelyn knew at once what she was doing. "Where is Nymeria?"

"Outside the sept. Was sitting there when I came in."

The exited the sept and the great direwolf was there, looking at the doors. When Catelyn came out Nymeria sat up and looked at her. Catelyn stared at the beast for a few moments and knew Arya was in there, looking at her. But she said nothing and then turned and walked away with Ser Rodrik at her side and Nymeria at her heels.

"Mother?" came a call across the courtyard and it was Sansa, walking towards them. "Where have you been? Where's Arya?"

Hearing the name of her youngest daughter made Catelyn's heart wrench. "I have been in the sept, praying for your father and brother," she lied. "Arya…she…she is in the godswood. Praying as well."

"Praying? All morning?" Sansa asked in surprise. "She missed her lessons with the maester. And it is almost lunchtime."

"Yes, it is," Catelyn said to her. "Go find the other children and I will find Arya."

Sansa hesitated. "Mother…what happened at the barracks?"

She sighed and was about to speak when Ser Rodrik stepped in. "Not to worry on that," he told her in a gentle tone. "We had a spot of trouble and all is well now."

But Sansa would not let it go. "I saw the Silent Sisters. They took two dead men away. Two of those men who just came here yesterday, people are saying."

"Yes," Catelyn told her. If they were going to lie they had better start right away to avoid more suspicion. "Two of those men that came with Arya's friend were killed there this morning. They tried to attack me and Ser Rodrik killed one and…and Arya killed the other. That is why she is praying."

"Gods," Sansa said, visibly paling. "Why did they try to hurt you?"

"They were drunk," said Ser Rodrik as if that explained it all. "We know not for certain. Now nevermind all this. We have taken care of it."

"If you say so," said Sansa and then she looked behind them. "It's Nymeria. Why is she not with Arya?"

The direwolf was right behind them, lying on the ground, looking at them. Sansa looked from Nymeria and then back to her mother.

"She doesn't spend all day with Arya," Catelyn said.

"Yes, she does, when she's outside and in the godswood," said Sansa and then she just turned and walked away.

"She did not believe us," Catelyn said in worry when Sansa was gone.

"She must believe us, my lady. No one can ever know the truth or Arya will be lost to you forever."

Catelyn knew he was right. They had to cover up Arya's crime, hard as it was, or she would be lost. If King Stannis found out what she had done he would force Ned to take action. She would be arrested, tried, and the whole truth would come out, about how those men really died, about her love for Gendry and about why she murdered those men. The best they could hope for would be the King allowing her to become a septa or a Silent Sister. The worst did not even bear thinking about. And after all that Gendry would still be dragged away to the King and gods know what he and his red woman had planned for him. And even if they were careful the secret might still come out.

"Too many know already," she said to Ser Rodrik. "How can we keep so many tongues silent, even if they are loyal to our family? What if more people start asking questions about what has happened in the barracks?"

He stopped walking and looked at her steadily. "You are Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell. Your husband and my liege lord is Lord Eddard Stark. You do not answer to anyone in the North."

She knew he was right. But then she remembered who they did answer to. "We all answer to the King."

"The King is far away and has enough troubles, my lady. He will not ask about these men till the war is done."

"He sent these men here for a reason. He wants Gendry. Stannis Baratheon is a King. Such men do not stop until they have what they want."

"Then we will tell him our story and that we never knew why they were here. They died before they could carry out the task he gave them."

"But one still lives."

"I can easily take care of that," Ser Rodrik answered and she felt a shock go through her. The unsaid thing hung between, the same thing Arya had decided to do and had almost completed before Ser Rodrik had stopped her.

She shook her head. "No, that would be murder."

He took a deep breath and spoke. "My lady, we are already covering up two murders. A third would not make much difference."

"To him it would. And his family."

"Of a certain," Ser Rodrik agreed. "Then what should we do with him?"

"I have asked the crone and she has no answers as well," Catelyn replied. "I need time to think."

"Then come let us have our lunch and we will deal with it later, my lady."

But she shook her head. "No. First take me to the cells. It is time I talked to Arya."

As soon as she said that she heard a movement behind her. Nymeria had been sitting close by the whole time as they spoke on what to do. Catelyn turned and looked at her. "Did you hear all of that?" she asked.

Nymeria let out a low growl and Catelyn wondered if that was a 'yes' or not. She turned away and Ser Rodrik took her to the cells. Nymeria followed them, but remained outside the armory.

"Master William wants to move the two ironmen to a warmer place," Ser Rodrik told her as they descended the stairs to the cells below the armory.

She nodded. "Yes, see that it is done and that they are well guarded. Put the chains on their feet again if they cause trouble."

"Aye, my lady."

At the cell level the two guards stood straighter when Catelyn Stark entered. She looked at them and knew what she had to say to them. "If you ever tell a soul my daughter was here I will send the two of you to the Wall in a heartbeat." She said it in a stern but quiet voice.

"Aye, my lady," the two said at once, the fear in their eyes easy to see in the light of the lantern that hung on a wall nearby.

"Good, now take me to the ironmen first."

They took the lantern from the wall and entered the corridor with the cells and one guard opened the ironmen's cell door. Pyke and Codd stood up from the floor and dipped their heads to her.

"Lady Stark," said Pyke. Codd went to speak as well but doubled over coughing.

"He is ill?" Catelyn asked Pyke.

"Yes, my lady," Pyke answered.

"Ser Rodrik, take them both to the maester and then see these men to better rooms." She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose at the smell. The cell and the two men reeked. "Make sure they have hot baths and fresh clothing as well. And see that these cells are cleaned properly."

"Thank you, my lady," said Pyke, the gratitude clear on his breaded face. "Thank your daughter as well."

"My daughter? Have you spoken to her?"

"This morning she promised to help us, my lady," Pyke said. "But she has not spoken since she joined us in the cells. Strange she is here."

Ser Rodrik grabbed him and slammed him against the open cell door. "She was never here," the old knight growled at him.

Catelyn stared at the two ironmen. "Do you understand?"

Pyke nodded, his eyes a bit wide. "Aye, she was never here. Right, Codd?

"Aye," Codd said and then he coughed again.

Ser Rodrik let go of Pyke and the two ironmen came out of the cell. "Right," said Ser Rodrik. "Just because Lady Stark has seen it in her kind heart to help you two don't get it in your heads to do any mischief."

"Not to worry," said Pyke. "Where would we go anyway?" Codd nodded his head and coughed his agreement and they soon left with Ser Rodrik.

"Open her door," Catelyn told the guard and he did so and left them.

The cell was small and had nothing except a latrine pail in one corner and a torch in a wall bracket for light. Arya was sitting on the floor on the left side, her knees pulled up to her chest, her hands clasped together, holding her legs to her body. Even in the dim light Catelyn could see the dried blood on her daughter's hands. Arya looked up at her mother and then put her eyes down again. She did not speak.

"Stand, my daughter."

Arya did so and looked at her but again did not speak.

"Arya…I…I know you love him. I know you would do anything for him. I understand all this. But what you did…that is not the same as killing an enemy in battle who is trying to kill you. That…that was murder."

"No, it was not," Arya answered in a quiet voice. Catelyn started to protest but Arya spoke quickly and more loudly now. "They were my enemy, Mother. They had to die before they could hurt Gendry."

"Arya, they were innocent men who were just following the King's orders!"

"Not innocent. Not those two. Drunkards. Criminals. Thieves."

"Yes, that is true," Catelyn agreed. "But that gave you no right to kill them."

"They had an order to arrest Gendry and drag him away and give him to the King. The King wants to kill him. So that gives me every right."

"It is a King's order, Arya! Don't you understand what it means to defy the King?"

"Mother, I was with Nymeria. I heard you and Ser Rodrik. I know you are covering it up. I know you are saying Ser Rodrik and I defended you from them. So you are defying the King as well as I am."

That made Catelyn angry. "I do all this for you, because I am your mother and you are my blood. You have put this whole family in danger by your foolish actions!"

But Arya was not cowed or shamed or remorseful. "When Father was arrested for treason and locked in the black cells of the Red Keep and when Sansa was made a hostage of the Lannisters, what did you and Robb do? You defied the King and rebelled!"

Catelyn knew she was right. "That was different," she started to say but knew it was a weak argument. "Joffrey…he was not the real king."

"No, he wasn't," Arya agreed. "But you and Robb did not know that when the whole North rebelled against Joffrey. You rebelled because the people you loved were in danger, not because Joffrey was not the true king. I am no different. I killed two men. How many men died because of your rebellion?"

"How dare you!" Catelyn snapped at her daughter in anger. "We saved your lives!"

"I know! And I am trying to save Gendry's! Don't you understand?" Now Arya let her façade of toughness fall away and her eyes were shining with tears, a few of which rolled down her cheeks. "They want to kill him! You must know this is true."

Catelyn Stark knew she was right and let go of some of her anger. "Yes, I fear they want to do him harm. Gods only know why…"

"It's her. That red woman," Arya said, the anger on her again. "She has something to do with it. Those three said so. Hot Pie said everyone was scared of her, that she is almost like the queen, the way she is always with the King and tells him what to do. Those men said she knows sorcery, maybe even killed Tywin Lannister."

"Sorcery? Arya…I…I am at a loss. But what you did…how can I ever forgive you for that?"

"I did it for him, as you and Robb did it for Father and Sansa and me. But Gendry has no family to save him. He has no son to raise an army. He's all alone in this world, Mother. He has no one…but me."

Catelyn knew she was right, and much as she had been horrified by her actions and knew Arya had been wrong, in that moment she decided to make peace with her daughter.

"But us," she said quietly and Arya let out a sob and came at her and wrapped her arms around her mother. For a long few moments they held each other, Arya's face pressed into her bosom, the top of her head just below her mother's chin.

"You are getting taller," Catelyn said after a moment.

"I am becoming a woman."

Catelyn looked at her. "Yes. You are. Now…what I am I going to do with you?"

Arya was taken aback. "I…I don't know."

"The third man…Arya, you cannot harm him."

"He's not a criminal, Hot Pie said," Arya admitted. "He didn't steal any wine. He's just a farmer. He has a wife and children."

"You wanted to kill him."

"He's one of them. I would have killed him, when the battle fever was on me," Arya said. She bit her lower lip. "Now…I don't know."

"He knows everything, Arya. Ser Rodrik said we should…"

"I heard."

"We can't keep him here."

"Maybe he can go to the Wall and join the Watch. Then King Stannis can't touch him."

"Perhaps."

"Or maybe we can send him home."

"What?"

"Hot Pie said Royce always talked about going home to his family."

"Maybe," Catelyn Stark said. "But not in this weather, the Wall or home. He must stay here for now. You must promise me to go nowhere near him."

"I promise. But…he still has orders to find Gendry."

She took a deep sigh. "No…he doesn't have any orders, at least not written ones. The parchment with the King's order has gone…missing."

"Missing?" Arya said with a slight grin. "Oh…that's too bad."

"Yes," Catelyn said. If Cersei Lannister could rip up a King's orders to protect her children, so could she. Gendry wasn't her child, but Arya's actions put her and all her family in danger so it was best if that parchment with the King's orders was never seen by another living soul. If Stannis asked about those men they could claim to never have known their true purpose. But she also knew that if Stannis did ask them directly where Gendry was, and if it came between giving up Gendry to the King and defying him again, she would do whatever she had to do to protect her family, even if it meant Arya would hate her for the rest of her life.

She put that thought aside and knew there was one more thing to do. Catelyn Stark stared at her rebellious daughter and put on her most serious face. "Now, Arya. What you did was terrible. I know why you did it. But it was still terrible. So I must punish you in some way."

"I understand." Arya said in a calm manner.

"I cannot keep you in these cells, nor confine you to your rooms. That would soon be known and everyone would talk about it. Apparently you helped save my life. If that story is to hold water we cannot let anyone suspect you are being punished."

"Oh. So…I am not being punished?" she asked with a small hint of hope in her voice.

"You most certainly are!" Catelyn said with an edge of anger and took a deep breath to calm herself. "So…you are confined to the castle. You will do whatever I ask, with no complaints, no matter how tedious or odious."

"Yes, Mother."

"First…you will go to the sept after lunch. You will get down on your knees and pray for the whole afternoon. You will ask for forgiveness and you will pray for those men's souls."

Arya bit her lower lip and seemed troubled by all this. "Mother, I don't feel bad for killing them."

"Gods…but still, I need you to do this. For me."

"Can I pray in the godswood?"

"That will do."

"Good, I can practice and pray."

"No practice."

"No? Why not?"

"You cannot have Needle back."

That shocked her. "What? But…"

"No buts, Arya. That sword will be put away and you are not to touch it until I say so or I will order Mikken to melt it down and make some forks and spoons from its steel!"

"You can't!"

"I most certainly can! You are not to touch it or any other weapon of any sort until I say so."

"But…won't everyone think it odd that after saving your life I am not allowed to have a weapon or practice?"

"No, they will not think it odd because you are striving to be a young lady. And young ladies do not carry swords and practice with them all day. Do we understand each other?"

Arya look stricken for a moment and then nodded. "Aye," was all she said in a dejected voice.

"Good. Now, come, it is time you were cleaned up. I suppose you are hungry as well."

"I am," she admitted. "But…can I ask something?"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell Father?"

"I…I know not." She knew she had to tell him eventually, but with the winter weather on them and the roads to the Wall so dangerous, she dared not trust such news to a letter anyone else could find and read. "Perhaps not now. When I see him again, we will tell him. Both of us."

"But we have to write to the Wall. To warn Gendry!"

Catelyn thought she would ask this and had talked on this very subject with Maester William and Ser Rodrik. "That is a bad idea, Arya. You understand that by warning Gendry we acknowledge that we knew the King was asking for him."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. But…he needs to know, so he can run if he has to."

"Arya, where would he run to?" Catelyn asked. "This is the North and it is winter, more so at the Wall than here. No, he will stay at the Wall, safe and warm as he can be."

"Some day Stannis will come for him." Arya said with worry.

She sighed. "I know. I…I need to think more on this. Come, first let us get you cleaned up and eat some food."

At lunch everyone looked at Arya in an odd manner and finally Bran just out and asked her. "Did you kill one of those men?"

Catelyn Stark held her breath as Arya answered. "Yes…I did," Arya said quietly and kept her eyes on her soup bowl and would not look at anyone. It was the truth but only half the truth.

Rickon was just staring at her in awe and Bran had his mouth half open with a piece of bread going to it. Roslin was staring at Arya in an admiring way. Only Sansa seemed unaffected.

"Of course she had to kill him," Sansa said in a matter-of-fact tone. "He wanted to harm Mother. We would all kill him in such a situation."

Maybe Sansa had believed her after all. Or maybe she knew something was wrong and was just helping her keep to the story.

"I still don't understand why, though," Roslin asked.

Catelyn was about to answer when Arya spoke up, her tone sharp. "He had a knife. He was drunk and mad. He was going to use it. So…Ser Rodrik stopped him. And I stopped the other one."

They were all silent for a moment and then Roslin spoke up. "What will happen now?"

"Nothing will happen," Catelyn told her. "Those men will be buried and that is an end to it."

"Lady Stark?" said a nearby voice and she looked up and there was Hot Pie, standing nearby. He dipped his head. "Lady Stark…may I speak with Arya?"

"Arya saved Mother's life!" Rickon shouted and many heads turned their way. For the first time Catelyn noticed that the people of Winterfell were all deep in talk and kept glancing their way.

"Yes, I heard," said Hot Pie.

Arya stood and Catelyn gave her a look. "You didn't finish your lunch."

"I will eat with Hot Pie," she said and Catelyn nodded. Arya picked up her bowl and moved to an empty table with her friend. She called for food for him and a servant soon brought it and then the two of them were deep in discussions. Catelyn hoped she told him the story that was spreading, not the truth. After they ate Arya took Hot Pie to the kitchens. Ned had promised him a place here at Winterfell and Arya was seeing that he had one. At least until he had to go to the Wall.

After lunch was over Catelyn Stark went to her rooms to rest. She lay down on her bed for a long while, thinking on all that happened. It had been a stressful day and it wasn't over yet. So much bother was not good for a woman in her condition, but so far she felt well. She had five children and the gods had seen all five come into the world well and healthy. But her sister had lost several children before they were born and her only son was weak and sickly, so Catelyn fretted on this pregnancy more than the others. And she was not a young woman anymore, so that was a worry. Yet Maester William said she and Roslin were doing fine so far.

Thinking on her sister brought up a lot of old memories. Lysa had always been over excitable, more so when they were girls playing at kissing Petyr Baelish in the godswood at Riverrun. He was just a boy, but Catelyn knew he had eyes for her. And Lysa had eyes for him, always. How she wished she had seen the danger in Petyr. How she wished she had never trusted him, believed him when he said Tyrion Lannister owned the dagger that had given her the scars she still bore and would bear for the rest of her life.

Petyr, why did you lie? Was it because you loved me and wanted Ned out of the way? Because you wanted Ned or me to do something foolish and cause strife between house Lannister and Stark? That's what you got, all of it my fault for arresting the Imp. Were you playing the game of thrones, as Ned said you were? But how can you be king? You're low born, and are a lord only by the grace of those above you. And now you are Stannis Baratheon's master of coin. Now you are untouchable.

When Ned heard that he clenched his teeth and cursed under his breath. Petyr Baelish was too close to Stannis now, Ned had told her. We cannot get the justice due to us. Ned had hoped Tyrion Lannister would take care of Petyr, as he had promised more than once. But that didn't happen. Stannis may believe their story about Petyr and the dagger. But he also needed Petyr and so would most likely do nothing about the whole thing.

She napped for a while and arose a short while later and sat at her writing table. Letters she wanted to write, to Ned and her sister and her brother, but she knew not what to say. To Ned…how could she tell him what had happened? She could not. If the letter was ever found by someone else, such information could destroy her family. So…she would wait until she saw him again and then she would tell him everything. Arya wanted her to warn Gendry that the King wanted him but she could not do that either.

To her sister she wrote the news that she could, of her being with child and of Robb's wife Roslin as well. She also wrote of what she knew of the attacks on the Wall and the truce between the wildlings and the Watch and the North. She included the same information in her letter to her brother Edmure at Riverrun. She also begged her sister to lend some help to their fight at the Wall or at least to King Stannis' armies. Yet she knew that was a faint hope.

She went to the maester's tower and gave him the letters, assuring him she did not write about what had happened this morning. He told her had only one bird left for the Vale.

"She sends none back," he lamented.

"No…she hasn't written to me since I left her," Catelyn said with a weary sigh. "I don't even know if she gets my letters. But send it anyway."

"As you wish, my lady."

"Any news from the world today?" she asked after the birds were gone.

"None, I am afraid. The snows and the cold make it difficult for the ravens to fly far and fast. I think we made enough news here ourselves to excite the people for now."

"Yes…is the story holding up?"

He nodded. "So far. But people are asking about the reason for the attack. Some are whispering it was a Lannister plot to assassinate you and your family."

She snorted. "How absurd."

"I know that and you know that. But they don't. They think the third man and Hot Pie may know the truth. It could get ugly, my lady."

"Then we must double the guards on Royce and find Hot Pie and protect him as well until this runs its course."

She found Ser Rodrik and passed on her orders. It was also time she had words with the third man, Royce. Together they went to the barracks and she confronted Royce. He was in a small room by himself, sitting on a bed, looking quite shattered. When the guards stepped aside and the door opened and he saw who it was, a range of emotions crossed his face, relief when he saw her, fear when Ser Rodrik stepped into the room behind her.

He stood and dipped his head. "Lady Stark."

"I am sorry for what my daughter did," she said to him right away after the door was closed behind them. "But it is done and cannot be undone. The only thing to decide is what to do with you."

He lowered his eyes. "I am at your mercy, my lady."

"If I send you to the Wall, what will you do?"

He did not hesitate. "I'm bound by oath to carry out King Stannis' orders," Royce said. "I will try to take the blacksmith to him. Alone if I must."

"At least he's honest," Ser Rodrik stated.

"Yes," Catelyn said. She looked back at Royce. "You still have no idea why he wants the blacksmith?"

"No, my lady. Like we told you, the red woman said they needed him, and we weren't to tell the baker's boy and to show the parchment to any who asked us our business."

A parchment which was now torn in pieces and burnt to ash. "The blacksmith, Gendry," Catelyn said to Royce. "He is as tall as you and stronger. You will not be able to take him. And no man in Winterfell or the Watch will help you."

"I have the parchment. Men must follow the King's orders, my lady."

Ser Rodrik grunted. "What parchment is he speaking of, Lady Stark? I did not see any parchment."

"It must have gotten lost on the way to Winterfell," she said, keeping her eyes on Royce.

"But…oh," said Royce. He gulped and then nodded slightly, as if knowing what the game was. "Yes, my lady. Maybe that is what happened to it. We had a hard time getting here. We might have burned it to keep warm."

"Yes, you might have. So, you cannot take him yourself and no one will help you," Catelyn said. "Why not let this matter go?"

"Because I will die as well when King Stannis finds out we have failed."

"Perhaps not," she said and there was a look of hope in his eyes, which was soon gone.

"My companions are dead," Royce said. "How can we hide this truth from him?"

"We have a story," Catelyn said. "A story that you will tell anyone, including King Stannis, if he asks. You will tell it to the day you die."

"Or that day will be today," Ser Rodrik added.

Royce paled, gulped, and nodded. "I am listening."

She told him the tale and of course he quickly agreed. "What is to become of me now, my lady?"

"You may go to the Wall and join the Night's Watch," she said. "Once a member, the King cannot touch you."

"Then I can never see my family again," Royce said in a sad voice.

"No, you cannot. But there is another choice. You can go home, and forget all this and pray to your gods that the King never lays eyes on you again."

"Home?" Royce said with a longing in his tone. "Home is close to King's Landing, my lady."

"It is a risk, but the King has more worries now than the fate of three men."

"Yes, my lady. I…I wish to go home."

"So be it. When the weather is better we will find a way to send you home."

As they walked away from the barracks Ser Rodrik seemed a little put out. "Speak your mind, good knight," Catelyn said to him. "You think it a mistake, letting him live?"

"It is not my place to say."

"I asked, so say what you think."

"It's a mistake, my lady."

She stopped and he stopped as well. "I will not have this man's blood on my hands," she told Ser Rodrik.

"It would not be on your hands."

"It will. The orders come from me. Let us not speak of it anymore."

"As you command, my lady," he said with a dip of his head. He started to leave but then stopped. "I was meaning to ask, my lady, when will we tell Bran the truth of these matters?"

"Bran? He's…gods," she said, remembering that Bran was Lord of Winterfell with his father and brother gone. "He is too young. Too many know as it is."

"As you wish, my lady," Ser Rodrik said with another dip of his head and he walked away.

Catelyn knew he would support her to the end, even if he disapproved of her decisions. Ser Rodrik had been with the Stark family all his life and would die for them she knew. But his disapproval hurt her. She wanted Ned back here, to decide these things, to take away her burdens. Or Robb, at least. Bran was too young to understand it all. No, she could not tell him what Arya had really done. No one else besides Ned could ever know the truth. Stannis Baratheon was a hard man, everyone said. He would punish her if he ever knew. And that she could never live with.

The next few days passed uneventfully. Royce remained under guard and Arya promised to stay with Hot Pie as much as she could so no one would bother him. No one did, and he spent most of his time in the kitchens where Gage was glad to have him. Slowly the idea that the two dead men had been in their cups and acted alone took hold.

The sun shone the next day as well and the snows melted somewhat and some fool even started saying that it was a false winter and the notion began to spread. Catelyn even thought about sending Royce on his way home. But on the fourth day since the incident the snows came again and it snowed for three days straight. During a brief break in the weather a raven struggled into the rookery with messages from Riverrun.

The news her brother Edmure wrote was dark indeed. King Stannis Baratheon was in full retreat from the west. He was pursued by the Lannisters as far as Riverrun and now the two armies were drawn up between the Tumblestone and the Red Fork, with both rivers almost overflowing their banks. The bad weather and Stannis' use of wildfire kept the two sides at a stalemate for now. Stannis had his back to the castle and was hemmed in by the two rivers. He was calling for any reinforcements the North could send. Even direr was the news that the Tyrells now supported the Lannisters and had marched on King's Landing and now besieged the city.

"War is everywhere," Bran said as they read the message in Ned's solar. Maester William and Ser Rodrik were there as well. "What support can we send to Riverrun?" Bran asked.

"We have no men to spare," Ser Rodrik told him. "All our men are at the Wall or guarding the western shore and Moat Cailin in case of ironmen attacks."

"Stannis knows this," said Catelyn. "What will happen if Stannis loses?"

"The Lannisters will gain the whole south," the maester replied. "King Tommen will be the King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"But he's not Robert's son!" Catelyn said in anger.

"That won't matter," Maester William told her. "it seems that the Tyrells will support him. And if Dorne does as well…then the matter is at an end."

"They won't attack us, will they?" Bran asked in worry. "Robb signed a peace treaty with Tywin Lannister."

"That treaty may not hold," said Ser Rodrik. "They will certainly ask for homage. They will ask Lord Stark to bend the knee to King Tommen. He must or there will be more bloodshed. We cannot stand against all of the realm."

"No, we cannot," Catelyn admitted.

"A Lannister victory will bring peace to the realm," Maester William mused. He caught the sharp look Catelyn gave him. "My lady, I know you despise them and for good reason. I…"

"Jaime Lannister must pay for what he did to Bran," she said through clenched teeth.

The two men said nothing and she sighed heavily and voiced what she felt they were thinking. "If the Lannisters win and Ser Jaime's son is on the throne, he will be untouchable."

"Aye," answered ser Rodrik.

"Quite so," added Maester William.

"Mother," Bran said. "What of what I know? What if I tell the realm and all the high lords about what the Kingslayer did?"

She sighed again and looked at her son and wanted to cry. He was a cripple and would never walk or run or climb again. All because of what that man did to him. All because of what he saw. And now it seemed like they would get no justice. She wanted to lie to him, but that would do no good.

"Bran…I fear that will not matter. If the Lannisters are in power again, we cannot touch him."

Bran nodded once and she could see he was upset and was struggling to control his emotions. "We must write to Father with all this news," he said quickly and it was agreed on and together they composed the letter and Maester William sent it aloft on the wings of a black raven. They also wrote letters for the other great houses of the North. Maester William hoped they would send birds back as the rookery was getting a bit too empty for his likes.

The news spread quickly throughout Winterfell and all were worried and angry at the prospects of a Lannister victory. At dinner that night the children and Roslin and many others in the hall talked endlessly about the news. At the Stark family table they were angry that Lord Stark might have to humiliate himself before King Tommen and that Bran would never get the justice he deserved.

Only Arya seemed undisturbed by this news. Catelyn watched her as they ate and everyone argued and Arya sat there eating quietly and had almost a look of satisfaction on her face. Catelyn knew why she was happy. As much as Arya hated the Lannisters, with Stannis defeated, Gendry would be safe.

Another week passed and the weather waxed and waned from bad to good, alternating days of sunshine and clouds and snow. But even the sunny days were freezing cold and the snows hardened and the water in the rivers and streams and ponds began to freeze over. The moat around Winterfell was soon solid ice and the children and soldiers began to slid across it and have fun. Hodor loved pushing Bran on a wooden sled and soon they began to make more sleds and had races on them around the moat. A child sat in the sled and big strong men pushed them. Hodor and Bran won many races and it delighted Catelyn to see her son smile and laugh again.

The two ironmen prisoners, Royce and many others spent much of their days in the forests gathering firewood for the coming winter. Great piles of wood rose up inside the castle courtyard and more was piled inside the buildings wherever they could store it. As much as people complained about the wood piles, they all knew they would be grateful for them when the real cold came and a man would freeze to death before he took ten steps outside his door.

And every day Catelyn went to see the maester and asked for news and every day there was none. No ravens came from the Wall or Riverrun or anywhere else in the south. For all they knew Stannis might have been defeated by now, and King Tommen was sitting on the Iron Throne once more. More days passed and life went on in Winterfell and all fretted and worried on the lack of news, especially from the Wall.

Then came a day when something strange happened just after the noon hour. It was a cold, blustery day, with the wind whipping across the snowdrifts and making everything seem so white that it was hard to tell sky from snow.

It began as Catelyn was in the great hall, talking to Gage and Roslin about their food stores and what they could do to make them stretch more. Both Catelyn and Roslin were beginning to show their conditions and Roslin even claimed to have felt a kick. She glowed with delight and Catelyn was happy she was happy. But with both their husbands at the Wall, they both worried endlessly on the lack of news.

As they stood there talking there suddenly came a terrible howling from the direwolves chained up near the armory. As many people came outside and gathered by them, all three were howling at once and struggling to break loose from their chains.

"Nymeria!" Arya shouted as Rickon shouted at Shaggy Dog. Hodor carried Bran on his back and Bran shouted to Summer as well.

"What has gotten into them?" Catelyn asked as she came on the scene.

"I don't know!" Arya shouted over the howling. She was trying to wrap her arms around Nymeria and then her eyes went back in her head and she sagged against her pet. "Gods!" she exclaimed moments later as her eyes went back to normal. She said nothing else and just let Nymeria loose from the chains and then did the same to Summer and Shaggy Dog.

"What are you doing?" Sansa yelled at her.

"Someone is coming!" Arya said. "They know someone is coming!"

Arya dashed for the main gates and a throng of people followed. Ser Rodrik appeared and Catelyn told him to bring as many guards as he could. At the main gates Arya struggled with the heavy wooden doors and Catelyn ordered the guards to help her. Soon the gates were opened, the portcullis drawn up and the three direwolves were bounding across the drawbridge over the frozen moat and then past the outer gate and down past the winter town. Many people watched them and soon a crowd followed the three beasts out into the swirling snow as they made for the Kingsroad.

The short road from the castle to the Kingsroad had been shoveled regularly and so now two high snow banks made it like a tunnel. They could not see much outside the snowbanks until they got to the end where it met the Kingsroad. The direwolves bounded up onto the higher snow and they leaped away to the north.

Arya was already climbing up and over the snow banks when Catelyn got there. Ser Rodrik helped her up and soon the blowing snow was right in their faces. Catelyn peered off into the north and all she could see was Arya, sunk up to her knees in snow.

"NYMERIA!" Arya shouted and now Catelyn could barely see the three animals in the whirling snow, far away.

Then a shambling figure came out of the blowing snow. It was man she could see, and so could Ser Rodrik. He pulled his sword out of its sheath and other men with him brandished more swords and spears.

"ARYA! Come back!" she shouted. Now Catelyn regretted taking Needle away from her. She was stuck in the snow, up to her waist now, and she tried to climb out.

Catelyn reached Arya before the man did. The man was tall, so tall in fact that Catelyn had a strange feeling who it was, that only one man in the North was so tall. But that could not be, could it? Then as he got closer to them, more figures appeared behind him through the swirling snow, a long line of men and women and children, with many horses and pack donkeys.

"Gods," said Ser Rodrik from behind her "It's the Greatjon Umber!"

Catelyn's heart was in her throat. No, no, no! Catelyn's heart screamed. It can't be! What is he doing here? Where is Ned? Where is Robb? She struggled forward through the snow, with Ser Rodrik hard on her heels. "My lady! Wait!"

The Greatjon looked up and as he saw her coming his face was full of astonishment. Winterfell must have appeared to him as if it was in a dream, suddenly in front of his eyes through the swirling snow. He sank to his knees and behind him many began to shout and praise the gods as they also saw Winterfell.

And then she was there and she bent to him and spoke quickly.

"Lord Umber! What has happened?!"

His beard was crusted with snow and his eyes were red rimmed and staring. He had a dirty bandage on his head and there were cuts on his cheeks. His right arm looked like it was in a sling. Behind him on a frozen looking horse lay a man who seemed to be in worse shape than the Greatjon.

"Lady Stark?" he said in a bare whisper. "Is it Winterfell?"

"Yes, Lord Umber. You are here. You are safe. Tell me…what has happened?"

"The Wall…it fell," he said.

Catelyn stared at him and could not believe it. "Fell? The Wall cannot fall! It has stood for thousands of years!"

"It did fall, my lady, twelve days ago," said another voice, a voice she thought she would never hear again.

Jon Snow stood there in the snow, all dressed in black, his beard crusted with snow. He was leading a horse with a very old man on it, who was lashed to the saddle with ropes. Behind him came another man, a large round man, also all dressed in black, also leading a horse. On his horse there was a young wildling woman and what looked like a babe in her arms.

With Jon was Ghost, his direwolf, and the other three direwolves were there as well, and Catelyn now understood that they had gone chasing after Ghost when they sensed him near.

"Jon!" Arya cried out as she made it up to them, and she leaped at Jon and he picked her up and hugged her tight.

"All right, little sister, it's all right," he said as she sobbed and Arya could only hug him and could not speak as she cried.

"Jon?" Catelyn asked in a weak voice. "Where are Lord Stark and Robb?"

He set Arya down in the snow and then Sansa was there, and Rickon, and big Hodor with Bran on his back, and Ser Rodrik and many more.

"I know not, my lady," he told her.

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked, almost in tears.

"Lord Stark and Robb insisted on forming the rearguard so I could get the women and children and wounded away," Jon told them, his breath frosty in the winter air. "We were all together for a few days, but then a big storm came and we lost touch with them. I have not seen them in three days. I sent men to find them but they have not returned."

"Gods," Catelyn wailed in anguish.

"Where's Gendry?" Arya asked quickly, struggling to control her tears.

"With your father," Jon told her. "He was well last I saw him." Arya gave another little cry and Jon hugged her close to him.

"Jon…Father and Robb are well, are they not?" Sansa asked in worry.

"They were not wounded, no," he said and Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief, one tempered by the knowledge that they were still out there.

And then an avalanche of questions hit Jon and Lord Umber and it was Ser Rodrik who asked the most important one.

"Rearguard? Against who? The wildlings?"

"No," said Lord Umber as he struggled to his feet again. "They are our allies."

He looked behind him and Catelyn could now see many people, mostly women and children, dressed in furs and hides. Wildlings all, mixed with some men of the Night's Watch and men that bore sigils of the North.

And then Jon told them who was attacking them and the dread in his voice was clear. "It's the Others and their blue-eyed wights."

"No, it can't be," Catelyn said, not wanting to believe it.

"It is true," Jon said in a stronger voice, staring at her with a look he would never have dared given her in the past. But now he was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Now he was different.

"How did the Wall fall?" she asked him.

But now Jon's eyes clouded over and he would not look at her and cast his eyes away. That look she had seen many times before, when Jon had done something to anger her. What had he done now?

Lord Umber spoke up. "It fell, my lady. At Castle Black. All of it came down, ice and rock, all of it. They poured through the gap and we could not hold them. Now they have gotten past the Wall and are invading the North, my lady."

All around her people moaned and cursed and cried. "Where are they now?" she asked.

Now Jon looked back at her and his eyes were filled with anguish. "They are coming here, my lady. And I fear we can do little to stop them."


	22. Chapter 22 Eddard

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 22 Eddard**

Once the details were agreed to it took three days for the wildlings to pass under the Wall and get settled on the other side. They were now camped south of the Wall, scattered in tribal and clan camps along the Kingsroad and close to the forest nearby. Their wealth they gave up, many of them grudgingly, and now it was being sorted and valued by Bowen Marsh and his stewards. Plenty of gold, silver, bronze, copper, jade, ivory, and other precious metals and gems had been collected, all to be used to buy food somehow somewhere.

The giants that fought on the wildlings side had mixed reactions to the truce. Some just turned around and walked off into the forest and never came back. A few decided to come south and managed to squeeze through the tunnel under the Wall. But the mammoths they had to leave behind, being too big to fit in the tunnel. To Ned Stark's and many others surprise even Rattleshirt and his people came and gave up their wealth, being one of the last to pass under the Wall.

Some more of the free folk were still out there, Mance Rayder said, and were too afraid to come through the Wall for they feared what the crows and the Northmen would do to them. He asked for time to find these people and bring them in and Jon had agreed to give him two more days before they began to seal the tunnel under the Wall again.

The last of Rattleshirt's followers had just passed under the Wall when a winter storm came again and blanketed the land with a heavy coat of snow. When it was over half a day later everyone struggled to remove the snow from the pathways and the Kingsroad and the roofs of building at Castle Black. The roofs were in danger of collapsing from the heavy snow piling up and men had to scramble across the roofs to push and sweep the snow off of them.

With the snow everything slowed down at the castle. The wildlings could not easily move south in such conditions, despite being used to such snowfalls in their own lands. The Gift was there, waiting for them, but how to divide the lands among Mance Rayder's people was a problem they had yet to deal with. On top of this, the Night's Watch was still very wary of the wildlings and most of the men did not trust them one bit. Lord Commander Jon Snow tried to make them all feel comfortable but suspicions ran deep in the Watch and among the Northern people as well. Ned Stark also did his best to smooth over relations and things seemed to be getting better.

After the storm abated, Ser Denys and Cotter Pyke took the chance to begin to travel back to their own commands at the far ends of the Wall. They both took letters from Jon, stating the terms of the deal that had been reached with the Watch. These letters would be shown to any wildlings who came near the Wall.

"Can that lot even read?" Cotter Pyke growled when Jon told him of the plan in Jon's solar that night before they left. Ser Denys, Mance, and Ned were also present, as was Sam with his inks and parchments. Robb, Thoros, and the Greatjon were still north of the Wall guarding the tunnel entrance.

Mance Rayder grunted. "Few can read," he admitted.

"Perhaps it's better if we send a few of Mance's people with you to pass the word," Jon suggested.

Ser Denys agreed right away. Cotter Pyke was less agreeable. "Pass the word about our defenses, maybe they will as well."

"We have a truce, there be no need of that," Jon said right away.

Mance Rayder shook his head in disgust. "There will never be trust between our peoples."

"For good reason," Pyke retorted.

"That is enough!" Jon said in rising anger. "Pyke, Ser Denys, you will each take a letter I write plus two of the free folk with you. They will pass the word to any groups of their people they meet. And you will let them pass under the Wall to the south."

"After they give up their wealth," Pyke said.

"Quite so," Ser Denys added.

"For certain," Jon said. The matter was settled and Mance agreed to ask some of his people to go to the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch.

"What is to be done with our wealth?" Mance asked later.

"Bowen Marsh is still sorting it," Jon told him. "When it is done it will be sent by sleigh to Eastwatch. Then it will go by ship to Braavos or Pentos, exchanged for coin, and then used to purchase food. Grain, oats, barley, dried and salted fish and meat, whatever we can find and buy at a good price."

Pyke shook his head. "The seas are getting rough. It will dangerous to send a ship across the Narrow Sea."

"He's right," Ned said. "May I make a suggestion Lord Commander?"

Jon looked at him in surprise. "Of course, Lord Stark. Any man can offer advice."

"Perhaps it is best to send a message to Braavos, to the Iron Bank," Ned suggested. "They have dealt with Westeros in the past. If one of their representatives comes and sees the wealth you have gathered, they can evaluate it, and then go back to Braavos and buy what we need. That way we don't need to risk the wealth."

Ser Denys nodded. "A sound plan."

Pyke was confused. "But the Iron Bank then must take the wealth by ship and risk its loss. Why would they do that?'

Ned shook his head. "They will let it sit in Eastwatch until the spring. They will give the Watch credit based on the wealth. When spring comes and the seas are safer they will take it."

"Yes, that sounds like a good plan, if they agree," Jon said. "But we still have to get a message to Braavos somehow. If no traders come in we will have to send a ship, sooner than later."

"I will not risk one of my galleys just to carry a message," Pyke told him. "I could lose a hundred men and a good ship." He looked at Mance. "Your lot can starve before I do that."

"You will do it," Jon said in a stern tone. "As soon as you reach Eastwatch."

Pyke stared at him for a long moment. "Then be it on your head if the ship is lost…Lord Commander."

"Everything is on my head," Jon told him.

"Aye, it is," said Pyke. "Then write your letters, and make it plain as to our purpose. I have few at Eastwatch who can read and who can speak to the Iron Bank and make themselves understood."

After that Ser Denys and Pyke went off to prepare their men to leave in the morning and Mance Rayder went to see to his people.

"We best get to those letters," Jon told Sam. Ned helped them and after a while they had the letters composed and they were sealed with black wax and Jon stamped them with the seal of the Night's Watch.

"Do you need anything else, Lord Commander?" Sam asked when it was done.

"Call me Jon, Sam, when others aren't near. Please stay a bit, both of you. I need…advice."

They sat by the fire and drank mulled wine that Edd had brought them as they talked. "With this winter on us so soon," Jon began. "I fear the wildlings will freeze and starve before much can come of our plans to feed them."

Ned nodded. "It's a worry. Freeze, maybe not. They are a tough people, and know how to survive the winter even better than our people. Food, that is the problem."

"What about hunting and fishing?" Sam asked.

"The lands near Castle Black are mostly empty of game and fish," Jon reminded him, echoing Bowen Marsh's words of a few days past when someone else had suggested the same thing.

"The lands near the other castles are not," Sam said quickly.

"The other castles?" Jon asked in puzzlement.

"Sixteen empty castles along the Wall, Jon," Ned reminded him. "Fresh lands, hardly touched in many years."

Jon was surprised. "You mean…settle the wildlings there?"

"At least till winter passes," Sam quickly said. "They'd have some shelter, and there are forests almost up to the Wall in those places. I saw it all when I came from the Nightfort. And many streams, and a few small lakes. Game in the forests as well."

But Jon was not so enthusiastic. "Those forts belong to the Watch. And once the wildlings settle in them, will we be able to get them out again? If not they will say that Jon Snow was the commander who gave the Wall to the wildlings."

"You agreed to let them south," Ned told him. "And agreed to help them."

"But this is too much," Jon said, clearly not likely this suggestion at all. "Men will curse me more than they already do."

"Do you truly care what they think of you?" Ned asked him and Jon grinned a bit.

"No. I guess being called a bastard and a traitor gives one a thick skin. But still…I need to think on this."

The next morning he decided. At the morning breakfast meeting of commanders Jon told them his plan. "The free folk may take shelter in the forts of the Wall until spring. Then they must move out."

Protests came from all corners, especially from Ser Denys and Pyke and Ser Alliser Thorne.

"You put them in the old forts they will never leave," Thorne said in anger. "And then we will have to root them out with sword and spear some day. Mark my words!"

"Your objections are noted," Jon said after they had all said their piece. He looked at Mance Rayder, who sat there and had said nothing. "What say you Mance?"

Pyke turned red with anger. "He has no say in this! He gave up that right when he turned his cloak!"

Mance laughed. "You cry over some piles of stones no one has lived in for centuries. Rotten, falling to pieces, full of old wood and mold, open to the rains and snows. Maybe we don't want them."

"Then there is nothing to argue over," Ser Denys said with some sense of relief.

"I did not say no," Mance told them. "I need to ask my people."

"Gods," growled Pyke. "Always asking and delaying. I say no. That is my vote. Now if the Lord Commander has my letters ready it is high time I was back to my own fort by the sea."

"Yes," said Ser Denys. "Let us go before more snows come."

Ser Denys and his men left soon after, with Ser Denys promising Jon he would do all he could to ensure the peace with the wildlings held. Pyke left a short time after that, with Thorne and the men who had come from Eastwatch with him. As they left Jon had some last words with him.

"Make sure the letter goes to Braavos," Jon told him.

Pyke was on his horse looking down at Jon and Ned. "Aye, Lord Commander." He turned his attention to Ned. "Lord Stark, I trust you and your men to keep this lot of wildlings under control. I don't want to come back here and find a smoking ruin and all your heads on spikes."

"Mance Rayder's will be the first head I cut off if I smell trouble," Ned promised him.

"No," Pyke said. "You save him for me. That's one head I would dearly love to separate from its neck."

There was nothing more to say and Pyke just turned his horse and rode to the head of the column.

Thorne lingered behind and took one last look at Jon. "By your leave, Lord Commander," he said with a mocking bow from atop his horse.

"I'm not your enemy, Ser Alliser," Jon told him one more time, but as usual it fell on deaf ears. Thorne only grunted and turned his horse and rode away.

"Some day you may have to kill that man," Ned told Jon.

"Aye," Jon said wearily. "I fear you are right. That's why I sent him to Eastwatch."

"Come, let us get out of the cold and get some hot food."

In the dining hall they found Gendry eating with Sam and Pyp and Grenn. When Ned and Jon sat with them with steaming bowls of soup all of them tried to stand but Jon quickly told them to stay seated.

"You lot wanted to beat me to a pulp one time and now you stand for me?" Jon asked in wonder.

"Beat you to a pulp?" Gendry said in surprise.

"Seems Jon was not well liked when he first came here," Ned told him.

Pyp and Grenn did not look up from their bowls, but Jon just laughed about it and soon told Gendry the tale of how they hated him when he first came here and soon they were all laughing about it.

"What's the training like?" Gendry asked after a bit.

"Brutal," Grenn told him.

"Especially with Thorne in charge." Pyp added.

"He was just so mean," Sam said in a slightly whiny voice. They all looked at him oddly. "I'm just saying. He could have been nicer. You know what I mean?"

"Aye, Sam. He was a right bugger," Pyp said.

"He must have done some good. He made you lot into soldiers, men of the Watch," Ned reminded them.

"Jon did that, my lord," Grenn said. "When we defended the Wall. Before that we were nothing."

Jon almost blushed when this was said and Ned felt a surge of pride for him. Aye, he may not be my true son, but I did have a hand in making him what he is.

"Now we are a brotherhood, a family," Sam said with a grin. "With a place to call home."

There was a long silence after that and Ned knew all of them were thinking of their real homes and real families.

Sam understood as well. "I mean…no, it's not…home, it's…" he stammered before Jon interrupted him.

"Yes, it is Sam," Jon said swiftly. "The only home we have now."

"Aye," said Grenn.

"I just wish it wasn't so fucking cold all the time," Pyp added and they all laughed long at that.

"I know it is a hard life, lads," Ned said to them after they stopped laughing. "I know some of you don't deserve to be here. But take solace in the fact that you are all brave men who did their duty and helped save the realm. And to my dying day I will tell the story and make sure others tell it as well. We will make sure the realm knows what the Watch did here and the names of those who did it."

He could see the pride in their faces now and they thanked him for his kindness. After that they ate and drank and had a few more laughs. Soon Gendry rose and said he had work to do and Ned went with him.

He picked up Ice from the side of the table where it had been leaning and strapped across his back again. It was awkward to carry around the great sword but after what he experienced with the Others and their wights Ned would not go without it. Once more Jon had given Longclaw to Robb while he was north of the Wall so he would ay least have one weapon made special to kill Others if it came to it again.

"What do you know of Valyrian steel?" Ned asked Gendry as they walked outside in the cold air.

"It's rare, it's old, it's sharp when made into a blade, and it's very hard to work," Gendry said right away. "I never worked it, but Master Mott did once or twice, just daggers mind you, my lord. He cursed the stuff because it was so hard to melt it and reshape it. Oh, but it's beautiful metal, without a doubt, tough, lasts forever, won't rust, keeps an edge better than any other steel."

"It can kill Others as well."

"I've heard this from your sons, my lord. They say Ice and Longclaw are the only two swords worth a damn against the Others."

"It's true. And Sam's dragonglass," Ned told him. "Now I wonder why they can kill Others but normal steel cannot."

Gendry shrugged. "Don't know, my lord. Magic I guess, if there is such a thing."

"A strange word," Ned replied. He was a practical man and did not like what he could not understand. "But if it is magic and it can help us defeat our enemies I am willing to believe. Now if only every brother of the Watch and every Northman had a Valyrian steel weapon or a dragonglass weapon I would sleep much better at night."

"Aye," Gendry replied. "My lord I have been here over a week and they haven't attacked. Are they gone?"

"We know not. Patrols we sent into the forests but they found nothing."

They walked a bit more and talked on this and some brothers of the Watch came past and dipped their heads to Ned. Once more he thought on the cruelties of fate as he looked at Gendry. If only Gendry had been Robert's true son, they would be now dipping their heads to him as king of the realm.

Gendry spoke up and took Ned out of his thoughts. "It must be good to be part of a brotherhood. I…I never had anything like that."

"You could have been one of them," Ned told him. "If things had turned out differently."

"I think on it sometimes, my lord, especially since I got here," Gendry replied. "But then I remember men of the Watch can't marry or lay with a woman or have families."

As he said this his voice got quiet and trailed off and he turned a bit red, as if he suddenly remembered who he was talking to and what this man, this lord, knew. "Sorry, my lord…I…didn't mean…I…"

Ned laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Not to worry, lad. If you ever do marry my daughter, I will be mightily disappointed if you give me no grandchildren to dote on in my old age."

Now Gendry turned really red and stammered his goodbye as he walked up the wooden steps to the armory.

Talking to him got Ned to thinking on Winterfell and he wondered how Cat and Roslin were doing, with them both with child. He said a small prayer to the gods for them and all his family. He was just thinking on writing a letter home when Steelshanks Walton's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "My lord, Lord Robb wants to know when to bring in the rest of the men from North of the Wall."

"Soon," Ned told him. "Perhaps this afternoon. There are still two patrols out scouting for our enemies, yes?"

"Aye, my lord."

"Mance Rayder also sent some of his riders looking for some of his people they believe are still out there. He wants to give them a chance to come south."

"My lord, the longer we wait, the riskier it gets."

"Right you are," Ned said and thought a moment and made a decision. "Then tell Robb and Thoros to begin to prepare to fall back as soon as our patrols return. I expect the Watch will want to begin closing the tunnel. I…" But his words died on his lips as Ned heard the sounds of steel on steel. For a second he thought it might be from the armory but soon knew it was coming from the wildling camp just south of Castle Black. Mance Rayder's camp. Soon they heard the noise of many people shouting as well.

"It sounds like a fight, my lord," Steelshanks said and he pulled out his sword. Ned shouted to some nearby men.

"Raise the alarm!"

Soon the alarm was raised and many men came running. Jon and some of the Watch and many Northmen caught up with Steelshanks and Ned just as they entered the wildling camp.

There they saw the cause of all the commotion. A large circle of wildlings was shouting and cheering two men fighting with swords in an open space in the middle of the crowd. Ned ground his teeth when he saw who it was. Rattleshirt and Mance Rayder, both determined to kill each other.

"Bloody hell," Jon said when he saw who was fighting. "We have to stop them." He went to move in closer but Ned grabbed his shoulder.

"It's not our fight."

"If Mance loses…all will be for nothing."

Ned knew what he meant but they could do nothing. "This is between the free folk," he told Jon. The looks they got from the men and woman in the crowd told him he was right.

"Stay out of it, crows!" one old woman shouted. Others joined in shouting at them and looked at them with threatening stares.

But most of the people were concentrating on the fight. The two combatants paused now, trying to catch their breath. Ned could see Rattleshirt's suit of boney armor was broken in two places, on the front and back, where Mance must have struck blows. But Rattleshirt seemed unwounded. Not so Mance. He was bleeding from the right cheek, a slight cut that must have been a very close call in reality. Behind Mance stood Tormund and Val and many more of his supporters, all with weapons out, looking across the clearing at Rattleshirt's men who were behind him, and who also had their weapons out.

"This could get ugly," said Steelshanks and Ned knew he was right, but what could he do?

"You lied to us!" Rattleshirt suddenly growled, his voice heard above the din. "You promised we would be free to rule the southern lands! Look what you made us! Beggars of the crows! Giving up our goods so we can eat! That's not what you promised! You promised the south! You promised fighting and booty and women. You promise us the Last Hearth, and the Dreadfort, and Winterfell, not some hundred year old ruin kissing the Wall's arse!"

"I promised you would all die if we did not come south of the Wall," Mance shot back in a loud booming voice. "We are south, are we not? We live, do we not? If you are unhappy go back north before they seal the Wall up. You know, Lord of Bones, you know we could not take the Wall and fight the Others at the same time. So we paid the price! Leave it at that and let us put down our steel."

"Oh, no, no, no," said Rattleshirt with a hideous grin under his giant's skull helmet. "We all paid. But did you pay Mance? Did you pay the price with all you have? I think not! Show the crows and the Northmen what Mance has been hiding from their eyes. Show them!"

Behind him Rattleshirt's men now held aloft a large horn, about eight feet long, with a wide mouth. It was black in color and had bands of gold around it. Ned could see in the low sunlight that there were some kind of markings on the gold bands. Such an item would fetch a high price in the east. Yet Mance had held it back from the collection of wealth. It must have been hidden well to avoid the eyes of Marsh's stewards.

"Look what Mance kept for himself!" Rattleshirt yelled to all. There was loud grumbling from the wildlings. "You did not use it to take down the Wall. You lied about that as well! It is worth more than all we gave. Yet you keep it for yourself, like some southern king sitting on his fat arse on a fat throne!"

"That is not a thing to bargain for food," Mance said just as loudly.

"He is not fit to lead us!" Rattleshirt said to the crowd. He turned back to Mance. "When your blood turns the snow red, then the free folk will have their true leader." Loud shouting now began on both sides as people shouted both Mance and Rattleshirt's name. Both men raised their weapons again and started to eye each other warily.

"They have to stop!" Jon said. "Stop them!" But his cries were drowned out by the shouting. "MANCE! STOP!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

Somehow Mance Rayder heard Jon's shout and for a brief second his eyes flicked that way, toward Jon and Ned. Rattleshirt saw his chance and lunged. But Mance suddenly pivoted right and Rattleshirt's sword just missed its mark. He had so much forward momentum that he was off balance and that was his undoing. Mance's sword swung back and down and bit into the bone of the giant's skull Rattleshirt wore on his head. The skull split and the steel went part way into the back of his neck. The Lord of Bones gasped in pain and fell to his knees as Mance yanked out his sword. Warm bright red blood spurt forth, steaming in the cold air and in moments Rattleshirt was face down, his blood seeping into the packed white snow of the fighting arena.

Mance's supporters let out a big cheer while Rattleshirt's men groaned in anguish. Two of them ran forward and checked their fallen leader. He was already dead. Then they dragged him away.

"Burn him," Mance told them. Rattleshirt's supporters said nothing, and began to leave.

"Not so fast," Mance growled. "You have something of mine."

There was a brief pause as both sides warily eyed each other. And then the tension broke as Rattleshirt's men returned the great horn. Tormund and two others took it and carried it to Mance's tent that was nearby.

The crowd began to disperse. Ned thought Mance might make a speech now, but there was really nothing to say. His challenger was dead and Mance was still leader of the free folk.

"We need have words," Jon said to Mance when they finally managed to reach his side. He was drinking wine from a skin, and was sweaty and looked very relieved.

"Not now, crow," Val said with anger to Jon but Mance held up a hand.

"No, let it be now. Come to my tent. You as well Lord Stark."

The tent was stuffy and very warm, with three braziers burning. Jon saw the reason why right away. On the floor of the tent sat Gilly, with a babe in her arms, breastfeeding it. Jon knew it was Mance's son, who was smaller than Gilly's baby. Her babe was lying in a small wooden crib nearby being rocked to sleep by the old crone who was the wildlings' healer. She saw the cut on Mance's cheek and got up to tend to him as soon a she sat. On the far wall of the tent Tormund and the other two wildlings set the huge black and gold horn on an old wooden crate.

As they sat on the floor Gilly went on breastfeeding, not batting an eye at the new comers except to say hello. Ned could see that Jon felt a twinge of embarrassment at her nakedness. Mance Rayder also caught this as the old crone patched up his cheek.

"We all come into the world naked, Jon Snow," Mance said as they sat on the furs on the floor. "There is no shame in it."

"Crows aren't supposed to see a naked girl," said Tormund with a grin. "Might give them ideas."

Mance laughed and the crone gave him a sharp look. "Laugh now. But you are lucky the Lord of Bones is slow and stupid or we might have to call that red priest to save you again."

"Is Rattleshirt dead?" Gilly asked.

"Aye," Jon told her. He turned back to Mance. "What I want to know is what happened? Why were you fighting?"

"Why should you care?" Val snapped at him as she sat on the furs on the ground nearby Mance and the crone. "It is done. Mance did you a favor. Everyone knows the Lord of Bones wanted to add you to his collection."

Tormund laughed as he sat with them. "Not this crow," the big man said. "I'd venture Jon Snow would have taken him."

"Why did you fight?" Ned asked Mance directly.

"He wanted to sit where I sit," Mance said and that basically said it all.

"Why now?" Ned pressed. "Because of this horn?"

"Because it was time," Mance said. "The horn was just an excuse."

"This is no ordinary horn," Tormund added and Mance gave him a sharp look.

"No need to hide the truth," Jon said. "We heard what Rattleshirt said. You thought you could bring the Wall down with a horn?"

"A magic horn," Val told him. "Or so we thought."

Then a strange look came into Jon's eyes. "Ygritte. She told me you opened dozens of graves looking for the Horn of Winter."

"The Horn of Winter?" Ned said in surprise. "Nothing but a legend, an old woman's tale to frighten children."

"Not a tale," said the old crone. "And I should know, Lord Stark, as I am an old woman. The Horn of Winter was made by dark magic over a thousand years ago to bring about the fall of the Wall."

"Made by who?" Jon asked.

"No one knows," she said as she finished bandaging Mance's cheek with a piece of linen and some sticky substance that made it stay there. "Legend says Joramun, an old King Beyond the Wall, blew it to awake the giants. Many say its power can bring the Wall crashing down just by being blown."

"Then why hasn't it ever been used?" Jon asked.

"Because the horn was lost and the Others slept," Mance told him. "We found it before they awoke."

Jon snorted, "The way Ygritte told it, you might have awoken them by looking for this horn."

Mance shrugged. "Who is to say? But I think not. I think the Others have been out there the whole time, lurking in the forests, waiting for the time to strike, waiting for the coldest winter in over eight thousand years. Gilly, tell him what Craster did with the baby boys."

Before Gilly could speak Jon answered. "He took them to the forest to be given to his gods. That's what Mormont implied when I asked him about Craster and the boys."

"Aye, his gods," said Mance. "Why do you think no one bothered Craster in all those years? Because the Others were his gods. They protected him, wanted him to keep making sacrifices."

"He's dead now, so that matters little," Ned told them. He looked at the big horn. "What did you plan to do with that?"

"Blow it and bring down the Wall," Mance said matter-of-factly.

"Then why didn't you?" Jon asked.

"Because it's not the real Horn of Winter," Mance told them.

"But…"Jon started to say and then he seemed to understand. "You told your people it was."

"Aye," said Tormund. "He told us and we believed." He seemed a bit angry at this point. "When we got to the Wall I told him blow your horn and bring it down. Then I learned the truth. It's just a bloody pretty horn."

"All lies, it was," Val said also with a touch of anger.

"The horn gave them some hope," Mance explained. "I hoped that the Thenns and my southern raiding party would open up Castle Black from the south and I would have no need of the horn. But you saw the end of that plan, Jon Snow."

"Aye," Jon answered. "And so here we are and we have a truce now. You are south of the Wall and safe from the Others. It is just a very nice looking horn, worth what Rattleshirt said most likely."

"I will not give it over," Mance replied with strength in his tone. "It is an artifact of my people. It belongs to us, a symbol of our kind."

Jon nodded. "Very well. Keep it. But your people heard Rattleshirt's words and might think ill of you for keeping it."

"I know these people," Mance said. "In time they will understand."

Jon stood and so did Ned. "One more thing," Mance Rayder said as he stood as well. "When will you seal the tunnel?"

"We begin today, tomorrow at the latest," Jon told him.

"Can you not give us more time to bring in more people?"

"No. The Others are still out there somewhere."

"It has been over two weeks since they last appeared," Mance reminded him.

"Aye," said Ned. "And it was eight thousand years before that. But I don't think they are going to wait that long before they attack again."

"The Wall will be sealed up by tomorrow," Jon told Mance. He turned and exited the tent and Ned followed. Outside Steelshanks was waiting and so was Sam.

"Is Gilly here?" Sam asked Jon right away.

Jon smiled. "She's busy right now. Maybe come back later."

"Busy? Oh…yes, best to come back later," Sam said, blushing a bit.

"Bloody wildlings," said Steelshanks as they all walked away. "Gutting each other."

"Are we no different?" Ned asked.

"No, suppose not," Steelshanks admitted. "What orders now, my lord?"

"We get all our people safely south," Ned told him.

"I'll take care of it," Jon said. "I want to make sure we burn all the dead and bring in any abandoned weapons. Sam, get Edd and a party of ten men and meet me by the tunnel as soon as you can."

Sam ran off to carry out Jon's orders. It seemed to get colder just then and Ned looked up to see clouds starting to block the sun that was low on the horizon.

"Might be another storm coming in," Steelshanks observed.

"Then we best get all our people south," Ned ordered. "Go with Lord Commander Snow, make sure Robb and Thoros get everyone in. Then have Lord Umber begin to dismantle the north side barrier and bring his men in last."

"We can use the material from the barrier to help seal the tunnel," Jon said and soon he and Steelshanks went off to take care of it all.

As Ned walked into the main courtyard of Castle Black he saw Maester Aemon shuffling along a pathway with Clydas' helping him. Ned suddenly had an urge to talk to the old maester, to ask him about the Horn of Winter mainly.

"A legend," said the maester, after he and Ned were left alone in the maester's chambers and Ned explained about the horn Mance Rayder kept. "Nothing can bring down the Wall, Lord Stark."

"I am sure if the sun shone long enough it would melt."

"Perhaps," Maester Aemon said with a soft chuckle. "But the Wall was built at a time when magic was common in the world, my lord. Brandon the Builder wove spells into its ice and stone that will keep it up when we are all long gone."

"Magic again," Ned answered. "Such a word that could mean so many different things. Is what my children can do with their pets magic?"

"I know not," Maester Aemon admitted. "North of the wall such a gift is well-known and even feared among the free folk. But they do not call it magic, or sorcery. It just is."

"It just is," Ned repeated. "So we must accept it, as we accept the Others as being 'just is'. How they cannot be destroyed except with Valyrian steel and dragonglass. How they can raise the dead and put life into them again."

"I have no answers for you, Lord Stark," the maester replied. "Men in my order have pondered these and many other mysteries for many centuries. Why did the dragons die? Why are they now being reborn? Why does the summer last ten years now and only two years another time? I know not. No one does. But we must accept what we see and hear and feel as real."

"And if the Horn of Winter is real?" Ned countered. "Then we must accept that it may be able to bring down the Wall."

"The day that happens I will believe," Aemon replied.

Ned grunted. "It is strange you are ready to believe dragons exist again yet you have not heard their roar or touched their hide. And before you spoke of another legend, of a prince that was promised, and you seem ready to believe that one as well. Why not the Horn of Winter?"

"Lord Stark, if such a horn existed do you think the wildlings or the Others would not have used it by now?"

"Without a doubt. But what if they don't have it? What if it was lost to them?"

"This is a possibility. According to what Jon told us Mance Rayder certainly believed in the legend and went looking for it. This horn you speak of, the one Mance Rayder covets. Describe it again."

Ned did so and Maester Aemon nodded. "A horn made with great skill. But for what purpose? What of the inscriptions on the gold bands? What did they say?"

"I know not. I did not get a close look."

"It may be a magic horn, of ancient making. But for what purpose I know not."

"Does not the legend say the Horn of Winter can awake the giants?"

"Yes, it does. But the giants do not sleep."

"Not anymore. Perhaps this horn woke them up centuries ago."

"I find it hard to believe a man of your nature would believe in legends, Lord Stark. I always thought you an honest, practical man."

"I try to be, but it does not always serve me well," Ned said in his grim way. "Legends are arising all around us, maester. Dragons in the east, Others to the north, my children being able to commune with animals. All this tells me something is changing in the world."

"I agree," said the maester. They spoke on all this and many other things for a long time. Ned was just rising and strapping on Ice again, preparing to go see what was happening north of the Wall when suddenly the maester gasped. "My it is getting cold, is it not?"

Ned was about to speak when he also felt the sudden chill. It seemed to go straight into his bones and it almost made him cry out. The room grew dark and no light seeped past the shuttered windows.

"Gods, what is happening?" Ned asked.

Aemon stood and Ned helped him to the door. Though it was only just after mid-day, the sky was darkening, full of clouds. Ned looked up and saw a mist was in the air, coming over the top of the Wall, flowing down to the castle. It was deadly cold, sapping their energy as they stood there. All over Castle Black men looked up in wonder.

And then a horn sounded.

It was a long, clear blast that seemed to rend the air with it's very sound.

"That did not come from this side of the Wall," Ned said at once.

"It must have," Aemon told him. "Such a sound could not penetrate from the other side of the Wall to our ears."

Then came a second blast of the same horn, the same sound, only this time it seemed louder.

A loud cracking sound came from high above. Ned looked up and saw a large slab of ice shear away from the Wall and come crashing down just to the left of the tunnel under the wall. All around the castle men shouted and started to run away from the Wall.

"Lord Stark !" Maester Aemon cried out. "What is happening?"

"A piece of the Wall calved off it!"

Aemon grasped his arm in a vice-like grip for a man so old. "We must run!"

Then came a third blast and this time it was so long and loud the whole earth seemed to tremble and shudder.

Ned did not wait to see what would happen. He picked the frail old maester up into his arms and ran down the steps of the wooden stairs to the courtyard. Men were running everywhere, terror in their eyes, the panic on them. As Ned ran south the sound of splitting, cracking, falling ice was overwhelming. Groans and screams came and the loud crash of ice and stone hitting the ground and stone buildings and men came in an astounding clamorous, cacophony of noise that shattered the ears and senses.

Ned ran and did not look back. He had to put distance between them and the Wall. Maester Aemon was light but the ground was ice and snow and Ned nearly lost his footing a few times and then finally he fell and Maester Aemon tumbled out of his arms and hit the ice and snow with a loud groan. As Ned struggled to get up a pair of strong hands helped him.

"What's happening Lord Stark?" Gendry shouted in fear as he helped Ned up.

"Get the maester!" Ned told him and Gendry picked up the groaning Maester Aemon like he was a sack of potatoes and flung him over his shoulder. There was no need to tell him what to next, and Gendry was right behind Ned as they ran south

All of the wildlings were standing by the Kingsroad or near their tents, looks of awe and astonishment on all faces.

"Gods" said Mance Rayder, his eyes looking past Ned as he came running into their camp. Ned felt a bit safer, stopped, and turned to look.

What he saw would stay with him for a long time to come. A wide section of the Wall was collapsing on top of Castle Black. Large chunks of ice and stone fell and crushed everything beneath them. The winch cage and its winch came tumbling down, the wince cable snapping and the cage and winch going their separate ways. The heavy iron winch hit the King's Tower where Ned and Jon had their quarters. It crashed through the roof and bent and broke and the remains of the winch landed in the courtyard, hitting two men of the Watch who were trying to flee, crushing them under its heavy bars. The cage landed on top of the dining hall and went through its roof and more screams came from in there. More ice and stone crushed the stables and they could hear the screams of dying horses and men. The switchback stairs that the builders had just finished repairing crumbled like small sticks of wood and fell in a tangled mess down below and was soon buried by more ice.

And then down came the rest, a large pile of ice and stone falling and falling, cracking and groaning, and letting loose eight thousand years of building in a few terrifying moments. Then it was done and they heard the rising sounds of screaming and groaning men, buried somewhere under all the ice and stone. A large cloud of snow and ice crystals filled the air and for a few moments they could not see exactly how much had fallen. As it cleared they could see that about five hundred foot section of the Wall was gone. In its place was a pile of rubble, ice and stone and bits of wood. The pile of rubble was about one hundred feet high and filled with blocks of ice and stone. Almost all of the castle was damaged and buried under ice and stone.

"May the gods save us," said Ned as he looked in awe at the destruction.

"What has happened?" Maester Aemon asked as Gendry helped him stay on his feet.

"The Wall has fallen, maester," the big blacksmith told him.

"NO!" Aemon cried out. "That cannot be!"

"It is," Mance Rayder said, the awe in his voice clear. "And Castle Black is no more."

"But…how?" Maester Aemon asked in shocked tones.

"It seems someone has found the Horn of Winter," Ned said grimly, their conversation of a short time ago now seemingly pointless. He turned and looked at the faces and saw few Northmen and no one from the Watch. The rest were all wildlings. He looked at Mance.

"Now is the time to repay your debt to the Watch and the North. Come with me and save as many as we can from the rubble."

"Aye," said Mance and he shouted orders and they started to move forward, Maester Aemon left behind to set up a place to care for the injured.

As they walked into the zone of destruction, Ned tried to remember where all his people were. Most were north of the Wall with Jon and Robb and Steelshanks and Sam and the Greatjon. Maybe they were all safe and he had to put aside those terrible thoughts that were starting to creep into his mind. But then he felt the cold again and the mist was still there and all was dark and gloomy and Ned had a terrible feeling why someone made those three blasts on a horn.

Then he knew for certain. There came a terrible inhuman cry from the gap in the Wall and Ned knew he was right. Even through the mist they could see what made the cry. On the high mound of icy rubble stood a tall, pale looking thing, not a man, but an Other, Ned knew at once. By its side on the ice and stone blocks scrambled up many wights and a few more Others.

"I think the injured must wait, Lord Stark," said Mance Rayder. "We have more pressing business in front of us."

"Aye," Ned answered as he took Ice from its sheath and once more prepared to plunge into battle.


	23. Chapter 23 Jon

**Ned Stark Lives Part 2 Chapter 23 Jon**

Jon and Steelshanks met Sam and Edd and ten other men of the Watch by the tunnel under the Wall. Ghost was there as usual, constantly at Jon's side. As they were about to enter Grenn, Pyp, and Satin and some other Watch members walked by on their way to the winch cage.

"Duty calls," Grenn said to Jon and the others.

"And so my watch begins," Edd quipped, echoing the words of their oath.

Pyp snorted. "You haven't pulled a watch since you started severing the Lord Commander."

"Aye, it's true," Edd replied. "But you are welcome to empty his shit pail, clean his sheets, feed his pet beast, and serve him meals if you are so inclined."

Pyp stopped walking to the cage. "Deal. Trade you for one day, see how I like it."

Jon laughed. "No, I had enough trouble getting Edd to do as I say. I have no time to break in a new steward."

"Just as well," Edd told them as he looked up at the Wall looming above them. "Looks like a cold wind is blowing up there today."

They all looked up and could see he was right. A plume of icy crystals was blowing off the top of the Wall towards the south.

"Gods," growled Grenn. "We'll freeze to death tonight for certain."

Jon shouted orders to some men nearby to gather more wood for the warming fires at the top of the Wall and promised to have it sent up after the party of men had sent the winch cage down again.

After that they said goodbye to Grenn and Pyp and the others and they walked through the tunnel to the north side. Edd kept looking up at the ice above his head.

"It will hold," Sam told him. "The Wall has never fallen."

"I know," Edd replied. "Just don't like having it all over my head."

As they neared the north entrance Jon felt a wind blowing into the tunnel. It was colder, and the wind was blowing from the north. On the south side they had felt nothing, but now as they emerged from the tunnel the cold bit into all of them.

At the north entrance Lord Umber was there with a party of thirty Northmen manning the northern barrier of wood and stone. It was now covered in snow and ice, making it stronger.

"Time to go?" the Greatjon asked soon after he exchanged greetings with Jon.

"Aye," Jon answered. "But first I must see to Robb and make sure those patrols are in."

"Don't wait too bloody long," the Greatjon replied. "I feel it getting colder already."

"Soon as we can," Jon assured him and then they walked north to the former wildling camp, now manned only by five hundred Northmen. Thoros and Osha were there as well, and so were Sixskins and his pets, helping patrol the wilderness for the Others and their wights.

Once they were past the barrier the wind and cold felt more intense and Jon wished they had taken horses as they trudged through the new snowfall with heads bent into the wind.

Scattered across the snow and half buried in it were the remains of the wildling exodus. Broken carts, the odd bundle left behind, here and there a broken spear or arrow, cracked clay pots and many other discarded items. Jon ordered five men to start gathering any weapons and pile them in a central location. He and Sam and Edd and the remaining five men went on into the wildling's old camp.

As they entered the forest the cold winds slackened a bit and they all felt better. They found Robb sitting around a big fire with some of his men. Grey Wind was sitting by Robb's side, busily chewing on a dead rabbit, fur, bones and all. Off to the side was Sixskins, with his beasts close to him, many men eyeing them warily. His beasts were also chewing on something dead, blood on their muzzles and teeth. It looked like a large dead elk. In nature Jon knew the three wolves, snow bear, shadowcat, and eagle would kill each other over the prize carcass but here under control of their warg master they were peacefully eating. The eagle had once been Orell's, a wildling warg Jon had killed, and part of Orell still lived inside the eagle and it hated Jon. But now it was busy pulling off bloody chunks of meat with its sharp beak and did not look over at him.

"What news of the patrols?" Jon asked Robb right away after they greeted each other.

"We found nothing," Robb said as he stood. "Sixskins just got back. We killed an elk for our supper but…well, it was fight them all or let them have it."

"They were hungry," the diminutive Sixskins said and then he turned to Jon. "And they have been doing your work, crow."

Jon just nodded. "Very well. What did you find?"

"I sent my animals far and wide to the north and east and they found no sign of the Others or the wights," Sixskins told him. "Or any more of my people."

"Aye. Thank you for your help," Jon said to him. He did not like Sixskins and he was sure the warg had no love for him as well, but he was their ally now and he had talents they could use. "Then it is time to break camp and head south," Jon said in a loud voice to everyone. "Let's get everyone south of the Wall before dark. Then we must seal the tunnel again."

All around men perked up at this news and began to stand and even gave a few cheers. "Not so fast," Robb said to them. "We have to clean up all the weapons and collect all the things we brought with us. Leave nothing for the Others and their wights." The men grumbled but set to the task. Robb turned back to Jon. "Patrols are all in but I sent three men to fetch water from that stream just to the west."

"I'll find them," Jon said. He looked about, puzzled. "Where's Thoros?"

Just then the red priest stuck his head out of a nearby tent. "Here, Lord Commander." He crawled out of the tent and right behind him came Osha. Both of them looked in a state of partial undress, rapidly fixing their clothing and strapping on their weapons they had left outside the tent.

"Gods," Jon said with a sigh and a chuckle.

"What?" Osha asked with a sharp look. "We all ain't made of ice like you crows."

"She certainly isn't," Thoros said with a laugh and everyone nearby joined him.

"Can I be next, love?" said a burly Northman to Osha and he reached to grab her bottom. She pulled her knife and put it by his crotch.

"Next to be gelded if you ever touch me," she growled and he backed off as his companions howled with laughter.

"Enough," Robb said, but not in an angry way. "We got our marching orders Thoros."

The red priest looked about the forest around the camp, his demeanor now serious. "They are still out there. They are our enemy. We must bring the fight to them."

"Where? How?" Jon asked in exasperation. "We can't even find them."

"It is a mistake to leave until we destroy them all," was the only advice Thoros had.

Osha grunted. "You're welcome to stay. I'm all for heading south again." She picked up her big spear and gripped it tight.

"Aye, let's go south," Edd added from where he sat warming himself by the fire. "Knowing my luck the Others will come back just because I'm here."

"Then you go first under the Wall," Osha told him and they chuckled some more.

After that there was nothing more to say. Robb's men began in earnest to break up their camp. Tents came down and were loaded on horses and donkeys. Broken weapons were gathered and loaded as well. Jon had Edd and the other men of the Watch lend them a hand.

"I think you'll be wanting this again," Robb said to Jon as he handed over Longclaw.

Jon thanked him and was glad to have his favorite sword back. Then he, Sam, and Ghost went off into the forest to the west to a small stream where the men Robb had sent to fetch water were supposed to be. They had just about reached the stream when they saw the three men heading back, loaded down with many filled water skins.

"We leaving," Jon told them. The three men thanked him and started to head back to the camp.

"Let's get back," Jon said to Sam after a moment of rest by the stream. He was about to turn but then Ghost suddenly growled. He got down on his haunches and looked across the stream at the thick forest beyond.

"What do you see, boy?" Sam asked but Ghost only growled some more.

Jon stared off into the forest on the far stream bank but saw only trees and white snow covering the land and the tree branches. The stream itself was mostly frozen, with some broken ice where the men had broken it to get at the cold water underneath.

"It's nothing," Jon said. He ruffled Ghost's fur. "Come on, boy. Let's get us back to Castle Black."

Jon turned to leave but Sam stood still. He was looking off to the west and then his eyes widened.

"Oh, gods," Sam squeaked. "It's him."

"Who?" Jon asked as he peered through the trees.

"Coldhands," Sam barely whispered as he pointed.

Then Jon saw it. Across the stream through the trees appeared a man riding a horse…no…an elk, a huge elk with a massive rack of antlers. It was hard to tell if it was a man at first, but then the many crows on his arms and shoulders took flight and landed in nearby trees. The man was dressed all in black and his face except the eyes was covered by a black scarf as well. The elk stopped at the far edge of the stream, about twenty feet from where Sam and Jon stood.

"Jon Snow," said the voice from under the wrappings around the face. "I have been looking for you."

Jon had trouble finding his voice for a second and then spoke. "Do I know you?"

"Aye," said the voice. "In another life you knew me."

Jon shook his head. "In another life? You speak in riddles, friend. If you are a friend, that is."

The figure on the elk laughed a bit, the laugh sounding cold and humorless. "Friend? Aye, I am a friend, though you will find few friends north of the Wall now. Sam Tarly knows me as a friend."

"I do," Sam said.

"And the girl and her babe?" Coldhands asked him.

"They are well," Sam answered.

"He did not come," Coldhands said next.

"He wasn't there," Sam replied and Jon looked from one to the other in puzzlement.

"He? Who is he talking about, Sam?"

Sam did not speak but looked away from Jon and his face was a bit red, and it was not from the cold.

"Your brother, Jon," Coldhands answered. "I expected him north of the Wall."

"My brother? Robb is just back there at the camp. He is north of the Wall."

"Not Robb," Sam said. "He means…he means Bran."

Jon stared at Sam. "I think you have some explaining to do."

"Yes," Sam said, now turning his eyes back to Jon. "I didn't think it mattered since he wasn't waiting for me. Coldhands said Bran would be waiting in the Nightfort when Gilly and I came through the secret passageway. But he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. I thought…I thought Maester Aemon and you and the rest would think me crazy for saying he was looking for Bran."

"This is madness," Jon replied, anger in his tone. He turned to Coldhands. "My brother Bran is a cripple. He could not go to the Wall. And why do you want him even if he could make it here?"

"Not me…the children."

"The….the children?" Jon asked. "What children?"

"The children of the forest. They still exist. They saved me from a worse fate. They told me Bran was coming, that I should find him, help him. But he wasn't there."

As a child at Winterfell he heard tales from Old Nan about the children of the forest how they helped the First Men defeat the Others ages ago. But they were all gone. Weren't they? But he had no time for riddles with this man, if he was a man. "Speak plainly or we are done," Jon said impatiently.

"You know me, Jon."

"I do not."

"Look into your heart," said Coldhands. "You know who I am, who I was one time, when life flowed in my body. Before the cold took me. Before the children made me what I am. I last saw you there, on the Wall, the day before I rode out, went ranging with some of my brothers. And never came back."

Jon felt a shock run through his body. No, it couldn't be him. "Show me your face," Jon said in a trembling voice.

"It would do no good. My face is not the same as it once was."

"Show me!"

Coldhands reached up and pulled back the scarf and what Jon saw was hideous. Sam stifled a gasp and Ghost growled some more.

His face was scared, the nose blackened and the cheeks as well. The tip of his nose was gone and Jon could see even through a black mustache and beard that the upper lip was half gone and the lower one blackened. He had no eyebrows and it looked like an ear was missing on the right side of the head. The cold had done all that Jon knew, frostbite killing the flesh. It still looked a bit like him but Jon was not certain. When he found his voice he asked what this man should know if he was really him. "Who was at the feast in Winterfell the last time you were there?"

"King Robert," Coldhands answered right away. "His wife and children, the Kingslayer and the Imp, the Hound and the Kingsguard. All your brothers and sisters…and you, at a small table far away from the royal ones."

Jon fought to control his tears. "Uncle Benjen?"

"Aye. Once I was called that. No more."

Jon struggled with this news, his mind reeling with it all. "How….what happened?"

"My party of rangers was attacked by the wights," Coldhands began. "Four were killed and we three survivors had to run, we could not stand against them. My horse stumbled and I fell and broke my left leg and my horse ran off, the terror of the wights on it. The other two carried me on their horses, but not for long. I was in agony and could not travel anymore. We found a cave in an overhanging ledge of rock under a big weirwood tree. They put me in the cave with some food and firewood and said they would go find a wildling village and beg for help. They never came back. I lived for two more days but then the fire died and the cold came and took me. I am sure I would have become a wight, but the children took me into the weirwood tree my cave was under. They took me into deeper caves under its roots. When I awoke I thought I was still alive but they told me no, I was dead, my body filled with the sap of the weirwood now, making me animated, making me their servant. And I knew, somehow I now knew the green seer ways. I knew how to be one with the beasts. They said it was old magic, passed down to me from men of the past, those who played my role before. Then they gave me a mission. Wait for Brandon Stark, he is coming."

Jon was too stunned by all this to speak and Sam asked the obvious question. "But… why? Why do they need Bran?"

"They say he is important. That he has a role to play as we all do," Coldhands answered. "I must find him."

"He is in Winterfell," Jon answered as he found his voice again. "Robb told me Howland Reed's children said Bran must go north of the Wall. Lord and Lady Stark forbade it."

"Then all will be lost," Coldhands said in a sad tone.

"Why?" Sam asked again. "The Wall still stands. The Others are gone."

"Not gone, Samwell Tarly. Not gone. Just waiting."

Sam gasped and looked all around him. Suddenly Jon felt a chill and the wind felt stronger than before.

"Jon," Coldhands said. "Bran must come north. You must convince Eddard of the truth of this."

Jon thought it all madness still but only nodded his head. "I will try."

"Good," Coldhands replied. "When you see Eddard tell him I am sorry I died and left him alone."

"Come with us!" Sam said suddenly. "Tell him yourself."

"I cannot pass under the Wall."

"He will come to you," Jon said quickly. "He is at Castle Black. Come to our camp and I will get him."

"I cannot," answered Coldhands. "It is too late."

"Too late?" Sam asked. "What…?"

Then they saw it, a white mist flowing through the trees coming towards them and the wind started blowing harder, whistling around their ears.

"Jon Snow! Sam Tarly!" shouted Coldhands. "Remember!"

And then he turned his elk around and disappeared in a cloud of white blowing mist and snow as his crows descended from the trees and followed him.

"Uncle Benjen!" Jon cried out.

Coldhands did not reply. Instead came an inhuman screech from the mist.

"Gods, no!" Sam shouted and Jon knew what it was as well.

"We must warn the camp and the Wall!" Jon shouted to Sam above the howling wind.

At his belt Sam carried that small cracked horn as he always did. Ghost and Jon had found it with the dragonglass blades in the bundle by the Fist of the First Men. Sam had liked it so Jon gave it to him, telling him it might make a good drinking horn if it was cleaned up a bit. Jon had tried to blow it once but no sound came out of it.

Now Sam snatched the small horn from his belt. He tried to blow into it but no sound came out now as none had then.

"It's broken, it's no good," Jon said above the howling wind, but Sam shook his head.

"I got some sound out of it before. Here! You try!" Sam told him, thrusting the horn at Jon. "I have no wind! I'm too scared."

Jon thought it useless to try, as he had tried before as well when they had first found it. But it was the only horn they had and they were far from camp. He had to warn Robb. He put the horn to his lips and blew.

At first no sound came out. He blew again and then something strange happened. Jon felt as if the mouthpiece of the horn grew warmer. He felt his lips soften and then the whole horn felt warm in his hands, despite the thickness of his gloves, and Jon felt as if he had known this horn in the past and now he knew he could blow it. He filled his lungs with air and blew with all his might.

From the horn came a loud clear, blaring sound that shook the snow from the trees and almost knocked Sam on his backside. The sound carried through the forest and echoed all around them, reverberating in the air.

"Wow!" Sam shouted. "Again! Three blasts for Others!"

Jon filled his lungs again and then blew and the noise sounded even louder this time, and the trees seemed to bend away from the sound. Its clear call echoed again and then just as Jon blew a third time, he heard the first cracking sound.

The third blast was even louder than the first two if that was possible. Jon thought his lungs would burst and then it was done and all he could hear was shouts and cries and the sound of an awful cracking, splintering crashing din coming from the direction of the Wall.

"What is that?" Sam asked as they listening and heard men shouting and the cracking sound went on and on.

Then Ghost howled and Jon saw the wights.

"We must go!" Jon yelled.

"Wights!" Sam shouted in turn as he saw them and there through the mist and trees Jon saw more of the mist shrouded figures coming towards them, weapons in hands, bright blue eyes staring out of dead bodies. Jon thrust the horn back at Sam and pulled out Longclaw.

"Run!" he told Sam.

"No," Sam said with determination and he attached the horn to his belt again, pulled out his sword and grasped his dragonglass dagger with his other hand. Then he looked back toward the Wall. "What is that noise?"

The falling crashing sound still continued but through the thick trees and mist they could not see the Wall

"I know not….let's go!" Jon knew they had to run. They were in danger of being cut off from the rest if they lingered any longer. Jon ran with Ghost beside him and Sam was on his heels and he knew he was right to run. To his left and right wights were filtering through the trees and Jon even glimpsed a pale Other on a dead horse. Just as Jon turned toward it, intending to kill it with Longclaw, a large bulk stepped out from behind a tree and Jon slammed into it and went down on his backside.

"No, no!" Sam shouted in horror as he reached Jon. "It can't be!"

Jon looked up and saw a wight as big as a bear looming over him. For a moment Jon thought it was a bear. Then he knew. It was Lord Commander Mormont, now a wight.

"Stop!" Sam shouted, but Mormont's sword came down and Jon barely got Longclaw up in time to stop the blow. Sam yelled and ran at Mormont but another wight stepped in front of him. Sam slashed with his sword and cut the right arm off the wight but it still came at him. Ghost was nearby fighting with another wight, ripping a rotten leg off of it and toppling it in the snow.

Jon was on his feet by now and the bulk of Mormont was coming for him, slashing the air with his big sword. Jon kept backing up and parrying his blows but could not bring himself to use Longclaw against his former commander.

"Kill it!" Sam shouted as he hacked the other arm off of his wight.

"I cannot kill him!" Jon shouted.

"He's already dead!" Sam yelled back and Jon knew he was right. The thing that used to be Lord Commander Mormont had bright blue eyes and pale skin. Dried blood covered his body where his men had stabbed him to death.

The commander's big sword came down once more and Jon shifted away from it and brought Longclaw up and dug it deep into the wight's body, through the ribs under the left arm.

"I'm sorry," Jon said and the former commander let out a hideous shriek and then his body started to burn from the inside out as if fell to the snowy forest floor.

Jon had no time to pray for his twice dead commander. He turned and hacked the head off the wight still attacking Sam and it too began to burn.

Then they were surrounded. Wights were all around them and for a few moments it was Sam and Jon and Ghost, back to back, hacking and slashing and biting and clawing and fighting for their lives. Jon saw an Other, just outside the circle of wights, standing there, watching, looking at Jon and Longclaw, and Jon thought he saw fear there in the Other's bright blue eyes, if that was possible.

Then came a shouting sound and there was Robb and Thoros and Osha and Sixskins and his beasts, with many more men, dozens, no hundreds of Northmen. All slashing and hacking and burning their way through the wights. Thoros' sword was flaming and he was praying or cursing in his own Myrish language as he thrust his sword into wights and set them on fire. Osha impaled a wight on her spear and one of the Northmen thrust a torch into it. Robb slashed the head off another wight and Thoros stabbed the body with his flaming sword before it fell to the snow.

"Jon!" Robb shouted as he got to his side. "What happened? Who blew the horn?"

"I did!" Jon yelled back as he hacked at another wight and saw it fall to pieces and burn.

Robb grabbed him by the shoulder and thrust his face into his. Robb's eyes were wide and staring. "Jon! The Wall! It...it collapsed when the horn blew!"

Jon just stared and could not grasp what he was saying. "The Wall? It cannot…fall?"

"It did!"

Then he remembered the noise and knew Robb was right. But then there was no time to think. Two of the Northmen went down under the attack of the wights and then there were more of them, and more men went down, some Others as well, on pale dead horses hacking at them with their pale milky white longswords and they had no weapons except Longclaw and Sam's dagger that could harm them. Some men panicked and ran from the Others. The wights seemed to grow in numbers and they were coming from everywhere it seemed and Jon knew what they had to do.

"Retreat!" he yelled. "Make for the Wall!"

And then they began a fighting retreat, slow at first, keeping their lines intact. Men would run back and archers would cover their retreat with flaming arrows fired at the wights and Others, and then the archers ran back and the swordsmen would slash and hack and burn until their arms were tired. In the midst of all this Ghost and Grey Wind and Sixskins' beasts chomped on wights and chewed off legs and arms. One of Sixskins' wolves died under a rain of sword and axe blows and as its blood turned the snow red Sixskins screamed in agony. His great snow bear attacked the group of wights hacking at the dead wolf and with massive swipes of its paws the wights were flung through the air and slammed into trees.

Finally they were out of the forest into the open space between it and the Wall and Jon began to from a new line of defenders.

And then Edd died.

Jon had barely noticed him during the fight, but he was there now, running back with the rest of them, his sword out and just as he cleared the forest he suddenly lurched forward with a look of astonishment on his face. He fell in the snow and there was a big spear sticking out of his back. A wight was ten yards behind him and it now ran forward with a short sword out. Jon saw it was a wight in the clothing of the Night's Watch but he did not know who it was. He stood over Edd and stabbed the charging wight with Longclaw and it fell and screamed as it burned from the inside out.

"Take him!" Jon shouted to some nearby men.

"Leave me. I am done," Edd gasped. "Funny…I feel warm for the first time in ages." Then he died.

"Gods, no," cried out Sam but there was no time for grief.

"Burn him!" Jon shouted.

Thoros thrust his flaming sword into Edd's body and it caught and then began to burn. Jon mumbled the Watch's words. "And now his watch is done."

"Gods!" Sam cried again, but this time it was not for grief for Edd. "Jon! Look!" There was shock in his tone and Jon turned to see what he was looking at.

Then he saw it and could not believe it. A wide section of the Wall was gone, collapsed, and the remains were now spread out in a huge pile of broken stone and ice about one hundred feet high.

"How?" he asked in disbelief. It couldn't be because of the horn he blew.

"When the horn blew it happened," Robb said again and Jon's mind reeled. Robb looked around. "Where's the Greatjon? Where's Steelshanks?"

There across the snowy field came a figure, a very tall man, his right arm dangling at his side at an odd angle, his face covered in cuts, a deep one just below his hairline. Behind him were about ten other men of the North. Some had injuries and all looked in shock.

"Lord Umber?" Jon shouted and he and Robb ran to him.

"It came down," the Greatjon mumbled. "The ice hit me…my men…crushed them."

"Where's Walton?" Robb asked quickly.

"Went under the Wall with fifty men, just before it happened," the Greatjon told them. They all looked back at the Wall and knew Steelshanks and the fifty men were dead.

"I sent them back," Robb said in bitter anger.

"I looked up and the damn thing started cracking. Me and my boys ran as fast as we could away from it," Lord Umber said. He looked at his few men left. "Some made it."

And then Jon had an awful thought. He had sent men up to the Wall not a short time ago. Grenn and Pyp and Satin and many others were up there. Or were they now all dead?

"We have no time for this!" Thoros shouted to them. "The Wall is down and our enemies are behind us and at the gates!"

Jon saw he was right. From the east now came a swarm of wights and some Others and they moved without anyone hindering them to the gap where the Wall once stood. They began to climb up the fallen ice and stone as if they were made to do so.

"TO THE WALL!" Jon shouted and then they all screamed and prayed or cursed according to their nature and each man ran for the Wall with weapons draw.

Behind them out of the forest came a staggered line of wights and pale Others on dead horseback and Jon knew they had to reach and breach the Wall or they would be caught between the two forces and eventually crushed.

Everyone ran as fast as they could in the snow. Horses they had left back at the camp or south of the Wall but horses would do no good here. They could not climb that broken pile of rock and ice that was once the Wall.

A scattered group of wights at the foot of the jumbled pile greeted them. The men of the Watch and North shouted their battle cries and slammed into the wights and were soon through them. But still more Northmen went down and for a moment Thoros fell as well, slipping on the snow, but Osha stood over him and impaled the wight that was about to kill him and then Thoros thrust his still flaming sword up and into the wight and it screamed and died.

And everything in front of Jon died, Longclaw like the wind in his hand as he destroyed wight after wight. The battle madness was on him and his men, and they howled and cursed and screamed and fought and died. The pile of ice and stone was in front of them now and they began to climb. Ghost bounded up with Grey Wind beside him and Sixskins' beasts not far behind. His eagle soared and dipped and then Sixskins shouted to Jon.

"They are at the top!"

Jon was halfway up and had just sliced the arm off a wight which began to burn right away. He looked up and saw more wights and Others at the top of the pile of ice and stone. As he took another step he slipped and his right leg fell into a crack between two ice blocks. As he lay there an Other screamed and leaped down at him from above. Jon raised Longclaw and blocked the first blow of the Other's pale milky white sword. As it raised it for another blow it screamed and then died. Sam was there, gasping for breath, his dragonglass dagger thrust into its back and the Other dissolved into nothingness.

"I've got to get one of them daggers!" Thoros roared as he helped Sam drag Jon out of the hole.

"That's three," Jon said as he grasped Sam's shoulder.

"Two and half," Sam said. "Your father helped me with the last one."

"Come on! Fight!" Robb shouted to them, his eyes wild with battle fever. All around them men were climbing and falling and fighting and dying. Thoros' flaming sword burnt out and they had no more torches and only Longclaw could kill wights now. The men still attacked the wights and knocked them down the ice and stone pile but they would get up again and start climbing back.

Then as Jon looked back north he saw a soul shattering sight. Hundreds, no thousands of wights and dozens of Others on dead horses were gathering in the open space between the Wall and the forest. It was if they somehow knew the Wall would fall this day and they were ready for it.

And then as Jon turned and kept climbing, as he neared the top Jon heard a welcoming shout.

"JON!" came the cry and there was Lord Eddard Stark, side by side with Mance Rayder with Val and Tormund next to their leader. Ned Stark had Ice out and had just stabbed an Other, its hideous death scream filling the air. Behind Ned came Gendry and many other men of the North and many wildlings. Gendry was swinging a big war hammer as if it was part of his arm, smashing in wights' skulls left and right. Behind him came wildling men and women with torches, setting on fire every one of the wights the fighting men in front were knocking down.

Jon and Robb and Sam and the survivors of the climb and fight reached the crest and together the two sides killed the last of the wights and Jon killed one more Other with Longclaw. They lost some more men in this fight and finally it was done and they all gasped for breath.

"We cannot hold against that," Mance said as he looked out at the plain filling up with Others and wights.

"We must," Ned answered him, as he balanced himself on a block of ice. "We must hold here. Long enough to get everyone else away."

Osha and Thoros staggered up to them, helping the Greatjon who appeared to be senseless.

"Another blow to his head," Thoros explained.

"Get him back to the maester," Ned ordered and two wildling women help the Greatjon away despite his weak protests that he could still fight.

The last of the survivors finally reached the top and they all stood on the broken pile of ice and stone and looked to the north at the growing mass of wights and Others.

"Where did they come from?" Val asked in awe.

No one had an answer. And then Ned Stark asked the dreaded question. "Who blew the horn?"

Jon gulped and Sam looked at him and then Sam just nodded. "It was me."

"No, Sam," Jon said right away. "I…I did it. I…the Others attacked. I had to warn the camp and the Wall. Gods, did it cause the Wall to collapse?"

"Where is this horn?" was all Ned asked. Sam took it off his belt and showed him.

"Gods," said Mance Rayder. "Such an insignificant thing."

"This is the horn you found with the dragonglass?" Ned asked Jon.

"Aye," replied Jon.

"The Horn of Winter," Tormund said with a shake of his head.

"The …what?" Jon asked in shock. "It can't be!" He looked to Mance. "You never found it!"

"No," said Mance, his face grim. "Because you did."

Jon was staggered by this news. He had blown the Horn of Winter. He had collapsed the Wall. And now Grenn and Pyp and Satin and Steelshanks and hundreds more might be dead because of his actions. The Wall was breached. The Others and the wights were out there, ready to attack, to go through the breach and invade the south.

"All this can wait," Robb said. "What is done is done. We have more pressing problems right now."

"Aye," Ned Stark answered his son and then turned to the boy he raised as his son. "Jon, take the wounded back to the wildling camp and get ready to lead the retreat. Gather food…"

"No! I am staying and fighting. You need Longclaw!"

"Aye, but we need someone to lead that lot back behind us. You know the castle, you know where everything is. The wildlings know you as well. We will need food, oil, wine, and ale. Fodder as well. Gather as much as you can, whatever is left. Use the wildlings' horses and wagons. Load them up and get the women and children and old and injured away."

Jon took it all in and felt anger and shame and knew it was on his face. Ned Stark grabbed his left shoulder and squeezed tight. "I only trust you to do this."

Jon fought back the tears in his eyes and nodded once. "Sam, with me," Jon said and then he undid Longclaw and once more handed it to Robb who gladly took it.

"Where will we go?" Jon asked Ned Stark.

"South, on the Kingsroad."

"South? How far south, my lord?" Sam asked.

And now the looks on all their faces told him what they thought. "Winterfell," Jon said.

"Maybe further," Ned answered quietly. "We must send riders to every castle, men of those places if you can, to warn the people. And to the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch as well. Sam, if any ravens survived you must cage them and bring them with us so we can send word to the kingdom. Time is short so do the best you can. Now go!"

Jon took one last look at him and Robb and the rest and then he and Sam and Ghost were away. They stumbled down blocks of ice and stone and wildlings coming up the other side helped them down, showing them the best places to walk. As they came down Jon and Sam were horrified at the destruction to Castle Black. Almost all of it was buried in ice and snow and rock. Wildling woman and children were moving over the debris, trying to find survivors. But they found none. The ones they did find were smashed and crushed. Jon recognized none except Clydas, Maester Aemon's servant, being place on a pile of already burning dead at the edge of the debris field.

Jon and Sam just stood there and looked at what was left of their home. "Where is the Night's Watch?" Sam asked an old wildling man who walked by, a dazed look on his face.

The old man stopped and stared at them. "The crows are all dead," said the old man.

"Dead?" Jon said, barely getting the word out.

"Those that were here," the old wildling told them. "One time I would have drank to that news. Not now. Now we need you crows more than ever."

The old man walked away and Jon felt weak at the knees. Lord Commander of the Night's Watch he was. And I caused all this destruction. Am I going to be the last commander after all this time?

Sam must have read his thoughts. "Jon, we have not time to wallow in our grief and pity ourselves. We have work to do."

Jon knew he was right. His mind was awhirl with all that had happened but he also knew he had much left to do and the war was not over yet.

"Sam, is the rookery still there?" Jon asked. They looked and they could see the high rookery tower sticking up out of the destruction.

"Yes, maybe," Sam replied.

"Go there if you can, get the ravens if they live. Get parchment and inks. We have many messages to send."

Sam ran off to do it and Jon turned to the next task. Food, they would need food above all.

Most of Castle Black's food was stored underground in vast vaults connected by tunnels called the wormways. The tunnels were also used in bad weather and the dead cold of winter to travel from place to place in the castle and stay out of the cold. Jon looked around and saw that the entrance to the armory was still clear. "Under the armory," he said to himself and as he ran that way he came across some wildling women.

"Do you know me?"

"Aye, the head crow," said one young woman would had red hair. For a moment Jon was reminded of Ygritte but he shook off that thought.

"Mance has ordered a retreat, south," Jon told her. "We must prepare the camp to leave. We must take food with us. Bring as many horse drawn wagons and sleighs and people to help as you can."

He did not wait for her answer but went inside and found the entrance down to the wormways. Gendry's forge was still a bit hot and Jon lit a torch off of it. He opened the door in the floor that led down to the wormways. There was a steep narrow stone stairway. It would be difficult moving food up here but it would have to do.

As he walked down the tunnel he suddenly saw a light in front of him. It was someone with a torch walking towards him. Someone shouted and Jon saw it was Bowen Marsh and the first builder Othell Yarwyck.

"Lord Commander!" Marsh yelled. "Gods, what has happened?"

"The Wall," Jon said in a choked voice. "It…it collapsed."

"Aye, we saw all that," said Othell. "We were in the dining hall when it all came down. We got away underground and ten others are with us, Three Fingered Hobb as well. We've been trying to find a way out."

Twelve men out of hundreds, Jon thought. Were the rest all dead?

"The armory entrance is clear," Jon told him as he shook off his terrible thoughts.

"What happened?" Marsh asked again.

"The Others and wights are attacking," Jon said, unable to bring himself to tell them about the horn he blew. "Lord Stark and Mance Rayder are holding the gap for now. We must prepare to retreat. I am here to gather food and supplies."

"Retreat?" Othell said in disbelief. "But we must defend the Wall!"

"There are too many of them," Jon said. "Thousands. We don't have the numbers or proper weapons to fight them."

Marsh took a deep breath. "Aye. And what of the men of the Watch? How many live?"

"I know not," Jon said truthfully. "Edd is gone. Many others as well. Sam still lives. He is getting the ravens."

"Maester Aemon?" Othell asked.

"Yes," Jon told them. "He is caring for the injured. We have no time for this. Let us get what we can and be ready to leave."

They set to work then, gathering food and other supplies from the vaults. Many wildlings came to help and they formed a line in the tunnels, passing sacks of flour and pease and oats and barley to the wagons above. Barrels came next, salted mutton and fish and beef and pork. Then came piles of dried fish and meat, and smoked hams, long strings of sausages, and more barrels with wine and ale, and frozen chickens and ducks and geese, great slabs of cheese, wooden boxes of hard bread, and on and on.

It took a long time and Jon periodically went above to find out what was happening. Messengers came from the gap in the Wall to tell him they were still holding but needed more oil for troches and flaming arrows. Jon detailed the ten survivors of the Watch dining hall to do this task and they and some wildlings carried some barrels of oil up to the gap. Then he saw Sam, struggling to climb down a pile of ice near the rookery tower with his hands carrying two raven cages filled with squawking birds.

Jon helped him down. "How many?" he asked, looking at the cages.

"Eight," Sam told him as he caught his breath. "King's Landing, White Harbor, Riverrun, the Dreadfort, Casterly Rock, the Shadow Tower, and Deepwood Motte."

Jon sighed. "None for Winterfell?"

Sam shook his head. "Some large chunks of ice broke through the roof. Many birds were dead."

"Very well," Jon told him. "Go to the wildling camp. Maester Aemon is there, caring for the wounded. Write the letters, he will know what to say. Tell him what you know."

"All of it?" Sam asked.

"All of it," Jon said, knowing what he meant. "Then send those birds off as quick as you can. We must tell the realm what is happening."

Sam ran off to do his duty. As Jon turned he saw Marsh standing there, waiting to talk to him. "The wagons are all filled. Not as many as I hoped for. Mainly wildling wagons, not well built at all. They have many sleighs as well, better for the snow. Most of our wagons were destroyed and many of our horses died in the stables."

"Sacks, fill sacks we can carry on our horses or our backs, as much as you can," Jon said next and Marsh ran off to do it.

Jon stood there, on the edge of the debris field of ice and stone and looked up toward the gap. He saw figures moving up and down, wounded coming back, fresh supplies of oil and arrows and torches going up. He wanted to be there. He felt useless. Then he saw Osha coming down toward him. She saw him and was soon running to him.

"Jon Snow!" she shouted and then she stopped out of breath.

"How goes the fight?" Jon asked.

"Not well. We cannot hold much longer. Your father said to make a fall back position."

"With what?" Jon asked. He had no fighting men or even women left. They were all at the gap or back at the wildling camp bringing down the tents and loading up horses and donkeys, or preparing to get the wounded away.

Osha was equally at a loss and then at that moment Jon had his answer. The red headed wildling girl was carrying a small barrel of oil toward the gap when she slipped and fell. The plug on the barrel popped out and the oil spilled across the snow and ice.

The girl cursed as she got to her feet and tried to right the barrel. "No! Stop!" Jon said.

He looked at the oil on the ice and snow. "It will burn, even here," he said.

"Aye," Osha answered, a grin on her face.

"We make a trench, fill it and get ready with flaming arrows," Jon told her.

The red haired girl understood as well. "I will fetch more oil!"

Osha ran off with her. Jon found Othell Yarwyck and he and Jon and few more men of the Watch began to dig a long, shallow trench in the ice and snow and hard dirt under it just past the debris field. They soon had it filled with oil and added as much wood as they could from the remains of the castle around them. They piled more wood and full barrels of oil on the edges to make sure the enemy did not to try to bypass it. Then they got all the survivors back to the south of the trench and Jon got Osha to prepare the flaming arrows.

"I'll pass the word to my father," Jon said and no sooner had he leaped across the trench when he saw that the retreat had already begun. Many figures were climbing down from the gap on the pile of ice and stone as Jon rushed to its bottom.

Val was there, limping and with her right leg bleeding, an arrow sticking out of it. "We are done," she said, pain in her voice. "Too many of them and too few weapons of any use."

She moved back and Jon told her to mind the trench. Then came Robb and Mance and Ned Stark and Gendry and Tormund and the rest of them. Thoros was one of the last, and as he reached the bottom there came a hideous inhuman cry from above them. An Other stood there, holding its pale sword aloft, screaming its battle cry. Then a swarm of wights came over the crest and started down towards them.

"Behind the trench!" Jon yield to them all and they began to retreat, moving back slowing, archers aiming arrows at the wights, swordsmen blocking the way to give the wounded time to get away. But the wights had archers as well, and arrows found Northmen and wildlings and they fell as well. They struggled to carry the wounded now as the wights closed in and then it was hand to hand fighting again. Jon only had his old sword from Winterfell now but he hacked the legs off a wight with it and Ghost ripped its left arm off. Then Robb stabbed it with Longclaw and it began to burn.

In moments Osha led a party of wildling archers across the trench and at close range they poured a volley of flaming arrows into the wights and then the wights caught fire and collapsed and a few even retreated. But more were coming down the ice pile, and now Jon could see they were Northmen, and wildlings and brothers of the Watch all once dead and now with bright blue eyes they had come back to haunt those who still lived.

Jon had just reached the trench when he heard a shout of joy and hope. From the wildling camp came five giants, massive brutes all and they charged across the trench and slammed into the wights and Others. The giants punched and stomped and swung their big tree trunk clubs and flattened wights left and right. This counterattack gave the living a chance to retreat across the trench. Then Mance Rayder was the last one. He shouted to the giants in their own language to retreat. Just as they turned to do so a wight archer found his mark and hit Mance Rayder in the upper left thigh and he went down with a yell on his lips.

The giants did not see it happen as they stepped back over the trench. But Tormund Giantsbane saw it.

"NO!" he roared as wights descended on Mance, ready to hack him to bits. Tormund leaped back across the trench and slashed and hacked and kicked at the wights until they fell back. Jon and Robb and Ned Stark and Thoros leaped across to help him. As they held back the wights Tormund went to pick up his fallen leader. But an Other was there and before Tormund could parry its sword thrust he was impaled on the Other's pale milky blade. Tormund gave a loud grunt and wrapped his hands around the Others' pale neck and tried to squeeze. But instead he screamed in agony and where his hands touched it they had turned to ice, solid white crystals covering his fur gloves. Then his hands snapped off at the wrists and Tormund screamed again, staring in disbelief at his frozen stumps where his hands had been moments before.

"Tormund!" Jon yelled and he swung his sword at the Other. But this was not Longclaw and as Tormund slid off its bloody blade to the ground the Other grabbed Jon's sword with one hand in mid swing and it did not even cut the Other. Jon's sword shattered and he felt a terrible cold freeze his hands and make his arms scream in agony. The pain was so terrible he fell to his knees and the Other stood over him and almost seemed to grin. Then before it could stab Jon its head was gone as Ice sliced clean through it's neck and then it dissolved into nothingness. The remains of Tormund's hands fell to the snow beside the still body of the man they once belonged to.

Ned Stark grabbed Jon and hauled him to his feet. Robb and Thoros had dragged Mance across the trench by now.

"Get Tormund!" Mance shouted as they helped him to his feet, looking back at his friend.

"He's dead," said Osha and then she fired two flaming arrows at Tormund's lifeless body and he soon caught fire as Mance screamed and cursed the gods and many wildlings joined him in his grief.

Now everyone was south of the oil and wood filled trench and Jon looked to Osha. "Now," he said and she fired one more flaming arrow into the trench. It caught fire and with a _whoosh _the whole trench went up and soon a long line of flame separated the living from the dead that walked.

"We must hurry," Ned Stark told them. "That will not keep them back for long."

They retreated back to the remains of the main wildling camp. By now everything that could be taken down and packed was loaded on horses and donkeys and wagons. Jon saw Maester Aemon being strapped to a horse and Sam was helping Gilly and her baby on another one. A wet nurse with Mance's son was in a great big wooden sleigh, both bundled in furs, and the old crone ordered Mance loaded onto the same sleigh as she tended to his wounds. The wounded Val was there as well, and Jon saw the tough wildling woman cry as Mance told her Tormund was dead.

"Did you get the ravens away?" Jon asked Sam.

"Yes, all of them. Maester Aemon sent more messages with some riders. One went to the Last Hearth. Another west and another east hoping to catch up with Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys before they have gone too far."

"Good, good," Jon said. He soon found Ned and Robb and they made their new plans. They would move as a group, with Jon and a party in front to find the way and to attack any wights or Others that got ahead of them. But the bulk of the fighting men would stay at the rear with Ned and Robb leading them. Osha and Thoros stayed there as well, as did Gendry, the big war hammer he had found in the armory now strapped across his back. Most of the remaining good horses they gave to the rear guard so they would have some mobility. Sadly, the horse Arya had given him and Gendry had called My Lady had not been found, and had most likely died in the stables.

And so the retreat began, Jon sending out wildling scouts on horseback in front. They followed his orders without question and Jon was glad of that small mercy. Sixskins and his remaining beasts were out front as well, Sixskins riding on his snow bear's back. Then Jon came, leading Maester Aemon on a horse, with Ghost at his side. Sam and Gilly and her babe were behind him, the Greatjon walking nearby Sam, despite the pleas of Maester Aemon for him to lie in a wagon. "I'll die on my feet!" the Greatjon had told the old maester and would not budge from his decision despite his broken arm and other injuries.

Behind those in front came the few Night's Watch men and then many wildling warriors, then wagons and sleights and lines of walking wildlings, and finally more men on horseback at the rear. The bulk of the people were wildlings, several thousand of them left, many of them women, children, and the old and injured, plus the giants. Of the rest Jon saw how few there were. Of the five hundred Northmen that had been north of the Wall a short while ago maybe only three hundred were left, all with the rear guard if not wounded. The remains of the Watch Jon kept together in the front. He counted only twenty-two men, including Maester Aemon, Sam, Marsh, Othell Yarwyck, Three-Fingered Hobb, and himself. Many friends and familiar faces were gone. There had been no sign of Grenn, Pyp, Satin or many others. And Edd was now dead.

"And now our retreat begins," Jon could just hear Edd quip and he knew not whether to laugh or cry. As he led Maester Aemon's horse, Jon silently cursed himself and blamed himself for all that had happened.

"Sam told me what happened Jon," said the maester behind him, his voice low and quiet so Jon had barely heard him.

"Aye," was all Jon said.

"You must have many questions."

"Just one. Why me? Why could I blow the horn when Sam couldn't?"

"Ah, the hardest one of all to answer," said Aemon Targaryen.

"Is it because of…because of who I am? Where I really come from?"

"Perhaps," said the maester. "But I need to think on this and I am tired. We will talk when we make camp."

Time to think and talk. Jon had many things to think on and talk about as well, especially about what Coldhands had told him and Sam. Was he really Uncle Benjen? And why did the children save him? And above all, why did they need Bran? He knew he had to talk to Lord Stark about all this, if he got the chance.

As Jon thought on this he held the reins of the horse and walked on the snow covered road, remembering how he came here so long ago on this same road, with Uncle Benjen and Tyrion Lannister, not really knowing anything about the Watch, not knowing how he would do, not knowing the future.

Now he knew. He had failed. He had destroyed the thing he was supposed to protect, had killed men who were his brothers. Soon the whole realm would know the story and there would be a reckoning. With a heavy heart Jon Snow put one foot in front of the other and trudged south, once again not knowing the future, but knowing that things could only get much worse, and maybe there would never be goodness and happiness in his world or anyone else's ever again. As he looked up at the late afternoon's darkening skies he wondered if the Long Night of legend had at last begun.


	24. Chapter 24 Stannis

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 24 Stannis.**

"He's there again, Your Grace," Edmure Tully told King Stannis Baratheon as he handed the King the Myrish eyeglass. They were on the ramparts of Riverrun castle, standing under a canvas awning, looking out at the pouring rain. To the near west stood the Baratheon and Tully earthen redoubts and trenches. A few hundred yards past them stood the Lannister redoubts and trenches. And there he was, visible even at this distance, the Kingslayer, on his horse, atop the redoubt's earthen embankment, waving his sword in challenge, even in the rain.

"Bloody fool," said the Blackfish from beside Edmure. "I hope he catches his death."

"Not likely," said Melisandre from King Stannis' side. "He is not meant to die of illness. That one is meant to die on the field of battle."

"Tell the men I forbid anymore challenges," Stannis said to one of his captains nearby and the man ran off to carry out his orders.

"I don't think anyone else will dare challenge him after what has happened, Your Grace," Edmure said after the captain was gone.

Stannis grunted but said nothing. Three warriors, all knights from the Riverlands, had already accepted the Kingslayer's challenge for single combat. Stannis had done nothing to stop them, allowing the men to have some form of outlet for their pent up aggression. And now three heads sat on pikes atop the Lannister redoubt. Three heads rotting in the rain. Rotting like everything else. The rains were not continuous, but frequent enough to make everyone miserable, cause the Red Fork and Tumblestone to run fast and high, and to soak the land between and turn the battlefield into a muddy morass.

They were at a stalemate for over a week now. Stannis had ordered the retreat from the west as soon as he heard the news of the siege of King's Landing. They could not stay there with their rear and main supply base threatened. If the Tyrells sent some men up the Kingsroad Harrenhal would soon fall and then Stannis might be caught between the Lannisters and the Tyrells. His instincts told him to attack the Lannisters and defeat them and then turn on the Tyrells. But the lack of cavalry and the terrible weather made such a plan difficult to carry out.

Yet, the weather was the only thing really in his favor now. The days were getting shorter and the rains getting worse. Under cover of darkness and bad weather Stannis slipped his army away from in front of the Golden Tooth, back toward Riverrun.

They had waited till nightfall and had pulled back as quietly as they could. The next morning they were far away. The Lannister cavalry pursued them but the attacks weren't as vigorously led as in the past and most of Stannis' army managed to make it back to nearby Riverrun. They soon learned the reason the cavalry was less aggressive. A captured prisoner said that the Mountain was no longer with them, that he had been ordered back to Casterly Rock for some unknown reason. It was the only good news Stannis had heard in quite a while.

The army got away, but it was a retreat and Stannis knew that wars are not won by retreats. The men in the ranks knew there had been a setback and despite his attempts to keep the news secret soon the whole army and even the Lannister soldiers they captured knew the Tyrells had now switched to the Lannister side. Morale plummeted and the rains made it worse. Three men in his army tried to desert by taking a small boat down the Red Fork. They were caught in a boom chain the Blackfish had flung across the river in case the Lannisters tried to slip men in boats past them in the night. Stannis had the deserters hung, their bodies left to rot in the rain as a reminder to his army what happened to deserters.

The narrow land between the Red Fork and the Tumblestone close to Riverrun became the focus of siege warfare. The Blackfish had ridden back ahead of the main army and had begun the preparations. With the two rivers in a near flood state, there was no way to flank the enemy positions and the defense had the upper hand. Attacks on both sides were beaten back and soon they settled down to siege warfare. But Stannis knew they could not stay here forever. Not with the Tyrells behind them. They had to find a weak point and attack the Lannisters. But none had presented itself so far. They could not outflank the Lannisters, could not breach their defenses in a frontal attack. They had only one more option. Continue the retreat to the east, to Harrenhal, maybe even all the way back to King's Landing.

Melisandre, however, was advocating a different plan. Cross the Tumblestone and march to the Twins and then north to Moat Cailin, to face the real enemy. Stannis could not do that, not yet. He would not give up the south to the Lannisters. Not while he had them right in front of him and could still strike them down. But how?

He swallowed his pride and asked the red woman to set the Lannister army on fire as she had once done to the Tyrells. She said it was impossible. The air is too damp, the land, the fields, everything was wet. Her sorcery would be not very effective, she claimed. He thought she was lying, still mad at him for not letting her burn prisoners, to make her sacrifices to her god. But he had no way to know if she was telling the truth or not. And every night she held her night fires in the main Riverrun courtyard and said the time was drawing near when the Others would break the Wall.

She also saw a danger to herself. A strange man, she said it was. She saw him often in her fires. But he had a different face each time she saw him. And sometimes he had no face at all. Stannis could see she was unnerved by this vision, that for once she was uncertain about what the future held. He began to suspect that part of the reason her powers were waning was because fear made her uncertain. Fear also fueled her desire to move north to get away from this unknown danger. Stannis put more guards on her and she was never left alone, but still she fretted.

For now they were safe, though danger loomed and would grow if they did not make a move. They had plenty of food and the Lannisters could not outflank them nor surround Riverrun. Supplies came in from Harrenhal, ferried across to the castle and siege lines on small boats. It was slow and some supplies were lost in the fast moving river. The Lannisters shipped some men across both rivers to the flanks but they were few and had no cavalry. Men-at-arms and archers Stannis had place on the flanks easily drove them back. The Lannisters next tried to build a bridge across the Tumblestone, to get some cavalry across, but the river was running too fast and the wooden bridge broke apart and came floating past Riverrun. The next day some dead horses floated past, drown no doubt in a fool's attempt to swim the river. The men who rode them did not float past, either saved by their comrades or sunk by their heavy armor and weapons.

There were other bridges farther up stream on both rivers, but Stannis had sent men to them during the retreat and had them burned or pulled down. The Lannisters were no doubt trying to repair them. And farther west there was no need for bridges to outflank the two rivers head waters. But the mud slowed everything down. Yet Stannis knew the time would come when he Lannisters would have large forces on both flanks and Riverrun would be surrounded. He had to act before then.

Then came news from the kingdom and Stannis soon learned things were coming to a breaking point elsewhere as well, both north and south. From the north came a letter from Catelyn Stark to her brother Edmure. He reported to Stannis that Ned Stark had managed to make a truce between the wildlings, the Night's Watch and the North as they joined forces to fight the Others.

"It is good Stark was there," Stannis said, as they sat around the table in Edmure's solar, which now served as their command post. Melisandre, the Blackfish and Riverrun's maester were there as well. "Otherwise the wildings or Others may have already be invading the North."

Her letter also included news on the terrible snows in the North and how movement was very limited. The old maester of Riverrun predicted the snows would soon be at Riverrun as well.

From Ser Davos came a rider who had managed to break out of the capital before the Tyrells had fully consolidated their positions. He had letters, one from Ser Davos and one from Jon Snow, the new lord commander of the Night's Watch, which had been sent to King's Landing.

"That's Ned's bastard," Edmure said in surprise as the leather despatch bag was opened and the letters examined in his solar. The rider stood nearby, soaking wet from riding in the rains and crossing the flooding Red Fork on a small boat. He was so exhausted he was barely able to stand on his feet.

"Jon Snow? He's just a boy, sixteen if not younger," said the Blackfish. "What fool made him Lord Commander?"

"The Night's Watch," said Stannis. "They decide their own commander." He too wondered why they made him their new commander but they had no time to dwell on that matter. Then he read the letter, with Snow telling him the situation at the Wall and confirming that the Others and their blue eyed wights were real, and were attacking in strength.

Edmure seemed unnerved by this news. "Can they pass the Wall?"

"I have seen it fall," Melisandre told him. Stannis had already told Edmure this but hearing her say it unnerved him more. Edmure shifted uneasily in his chair and his uncle glared at him and turned back to Melisandre.

"When I see them here I will believe in them," he told her.

"By then it will be too late," the red woman answered. "We must stop them in the North. That is where the real battle for Westeros will be won or lost."

"We cannot go North until our enemies are defeated here," Stannis said as he continued reading the letter from Jon Snow. He was asking, no, telling Stannis that he was giving the Gift to the wildlings to settle on. Stannis ground his teeth and bristled slightly at Lord Snow's presumptuous attitude but there was naught he could do about it.

Stannis decided to reply to Lord Snow and tell him to do as he saw fit as long as he maintained the Wall and kept the Others at bay. He would have to write the letter later, and send it, if they had a raven for Castle Black. When asked the maester reported they did not have a bird for Castle Black and so they had no swift way to contact the Wall. The matter was put aside for the moment.

"What news from King's Landing?" Edmure asked next as Stannis opened the letter from Ser Davos. The letter was more than ten days old and said nothing more than what they already knew about the siege from the raven message that had been sent to Riverrun. But included in this note was the news that Stannis' wife and daughter were in the capital and refused to leave. That got Stannis' blood up but the last part of the letter made him even more worried. There were rumors of some force in the south near the Stormlands. Davos was unsure who it was but one rumor going about said it was the Dornish, finally moving to join the war at last.

"That is grave news," Stannis said and then he turned to the rider. "What of this rumor of the Dornish?"

"We heard from some merchants, coming up from Storm's End, Your Grace," the rider reported. "They say some enemy force is in the southern Storm Lands. Took Griffin's Roost. No one knows for certain who it is. They claim it is the Dornish, Your Grace."

"Griffin's Roost," the Blackfish said with a grunt after Stannis dismissed the rider, telling the maester to take him and get him some food and a place to rest. "Lord Jon Connington's old lands."

"Who is this Jon Connington?" Melisandre asked.

"A dead man," Stannis told her. "Mad Aerys banished him when he failed to defeat Robert at Stoney Sept. Varys later said he was a sellsword in the Free Cities and drank himself to death."

"It must be the Dornish," said the Blackfish. "Who else would it be?"

"The Martells have stayed neutral until now," Edmure reminded them. "Why make a move?"

"Because they know we are losing," Stannis said and they were all silent, all knowing the implications if it truly was the Dornish. Stannis finally voiced what they all thought. "We cannot stand against the Lannisters, Tyrells, and Martells. Already they lay siege to King's Landing, maybe to Storm's End. And here."

"Then we must attack," said the Blackfish. "We must defeat those in front of us and then turn back to King's Landing and crush the enemy there as well."

"If only it were that simple," said Stannis, knowing Ser Brynden was right. But they could not do it, could not break the Lannister lines without losing heavily themselves. Or maybe being utterly defeated.

"We must retreat," said Melisandre after another moment of silence.

The Blackfish bristled. "Retreat? Where to, my lady?"

"North," she said again. "We must go to the North and defend the realm from the true enemy. Let these Lannisters and the rest have the south. It will mean nothing if those with blue eyes get here and the cold comes and freezes the whole realm."

"I will not retreat," Ser Brynden Tully said immediately. "This is my home. I am too old to find another. I will stay." He looked to Stannis. "I will maintain the siege lines while you slip away if you wish, Your Grace. Riverrun can hold out for a long time and delay the Lannisters."

"If he can give us time to get away we must take it, Your Grace" Melisandre said swiftly, almost a bit too eagerly.

"I will stay as well," Edmure told them. "They will not take the castle as long as we can defend it."

Stannis knew Edmure was not as bold as his words made him seem, but he also knew with the Blackfish here Riverrun would be a hard nut to crack and the Lannisters could not afford to leave it untaken behind them.

"Then that is our plan," Stannis told them. "Ser Brynden, we must have as many boats and barges as you can muster."

"The order has already been given," the Blackfish told him. "I will see what progress we are making." The Blackfish stood and left them.

"Is there not another option?" Edmure suddenly asked after his uncle had left. "We must make them see sense, Your Grace. Tyrion Lannister…he is a smart man I have heard. A reasonable man. He will know it is true, about the Others. He will listen to you. He must or we are all lost."

Stannis said nothing for a long moment. He knew what Edmure was asking him to do, and he struggled with the notion. Tyrion Lannister was a smart man, Stannis knew this from his years at court with the Imp. Reasonable, maybe as well, but he would not agree to any alliances or truces now. The one condition he would put on such was for Stannis to renounce his claim to the Iron Throne in favor of Tommen. And Stannis would never do that.

Stannis stood. "No. It would be a sign of weakness to ask. And he would never agree. They want my head on a spike as I want theirs."

He turned to leave but Melisandre grabbed his arm and held tight. He glared at her but in her eyes he saw the fear again and it made him stay still.

"Lord Tully is right, Your Grace," she said in a pleading tone. "We must all put aside our differences. We must reach a compromise somehow."

Stannis had suggested such a very thing two weeks past when he faced Ser Jamie Lannister and Ser Kevan Lannister. But he could not agree to a truce if the bastard children of Cersei still lived.

"They will never agree to my terms," he said, and he torn his arm away from her grasp and left the room.

Stannis climbed to the battlements and looked out over the siege lines. He found the Blackfish there, standing tall and looking toward the Lannister lines as well. The rain had stopped and there was a cold chill in the air.

Ser Brynden Tully looked up at the late afternoon cloudy skies. "It will soon snow here as well as the North."

Stannis nodded. "So it would seem the Stark words hold some weight after all. Winter has come."

"As it always does. As men who have lived as many days as you and I know it always will."

"It is already winter at the Wall and in the North," Stannis replied and then he wondered for a brief moment on the three men he had sent with the baker's boy Hot Pie to the Wall. Had they made it? Maybe not yet, if they were still alive. Catelyn Stark's letter to her brother spoke of huge storms and massive snowfalls that brought everything to a standstill. Perhaps it was just as bad at the Wall. He knew little of Jon Snow, this new commander, other than the fact that he was Ned Stark's bastard and Catelyn Stark hated him.

"Ned Stark's bastard, Jon Snow," Stannis said next. "What do you know of him?"

"Little except Catelyn despised the boy from the moment she learned of his existence. She never spoke on him. Always her children she spoke on but never the bastard."

"That is to be expected," Stannis replied. "Do you know by chance who his mother is?"

"I know not," the Blackfish answered. "Someone Ned met on campaign no doubt. What is certain is that when he returned from the south after finding his sister dead he had the baby boy with him."

"Ned never spoke on who the mother was?"

"Never. Not to me or Cat or anyone else in the family at least. Robert may have known. They shared much, those two."

Stannis grunted. "Yes. He was more brother to Robert than I was."

The Blackfish gave a slight sigh. "Older brothers are more difficult to deal with than an enemy sometimes."

"Hoster was a hard man, I have heard," Stannis said.

"True enough," replied the Blackfish. "But he is gone and so is Robert and mores the pity."

They were silent for a few moments, looking over the battle lines, which were quiet as both sides were preparing their supper. Fires dotted the landscape on both sides of the siege lines. Stannis looked to the land north of the Tumblestone and south of the Red Fork. "They will find a way to cross the rivers in strength and with cavalry. They will come there soon and all escape will be cut off."

"Then you must go, sooner than later," Ser Brynden replied.

"How many boats and barges do you have?"

"Boats we have plenty of, a hundred at least. Barges, not so many. A score or more. But few large ones to take the wagons and horses across. To move the whole army under cover of darkness will be a long and difficult task with the rivers still in flood state. It may take more than one night. The foot we can get across in the boats, but the horse and wagons…you may lose many or have to leave them here."

"We cannot leave without the supply wagons and the horses pulling them. An army without food and drink will soon turn into a mob."

"For certain," agreed the Blackfish. "If we can get you across, where to?"

"North or south are the only choices."

"South to King's Landing," the Blackfish said right away. "It is the wise move, Your Grace. Hit the Tyrells from behind while Ser Davos holds them in place. I will keep the Lannisters busy here long enough. But you must march swiftly."

"No one is marching swiftly in this mud," Stannis replied. "And if the Dornish have truly entered the war, I may be heading into a trap in the south. Three enemy armies are too many to deal with."

"Robert defeated three armies in one day, one by one," the Blackfish said.

"There is no need to remind me of Robert's deeds." Stannis replied in a gruff tone. He hated being compared to Robert. Oh, yes, Robert had won many battles and had some glorious victories. But Stannis had won battles as well, all for Robert. He had held Storm's End through most of the war, tying down large numbers of soldiers that could have made the difference in other battles. And he won perhaps the hardest battle of all, during the Greyjoy Rebellion, by defeating the Iron Fleet. No one else had done that in living memory. But no one seemed to remember it now either when they spoke of Robert's great military legacy.

"Then remember what else he did," the Blackfish said, bringing Stannis out of his memories and back to the present. "He gave generous terms to the defeated and many came to his side. What terms would the Dornish want?"

"Gregor Clegane's head for one. But he is now out of reach."

"Then offer them lands, titles, riches, anything."

"Doran Martell has all that and more already. He is a cautious man who weighs all such offers carefully and sees what they will mean in the end. Joining the war for either side puts his land and people at risk if he chooses the wrong side. The Martells have no love for my family. My brother 's rebellion led to the death of his sister and her children. He will not want a pact with me. And his brother the Red Viper will not rest until he has his vengeance for their sister."

"If not you then why would they join the Lannisters?" the Blackfish countered. "The Lannisters sacked King's Landing, not Robert. Tywin Lannister gave the order to kill the children, did he not?"

"So the Dornish believe. It is certain Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch did the killing and they were Tywin Lannister's bannermen. Yes, why would they join the Lannisters when they despise them? We know little of what is happening in the Storm Lands. I need more information on this attack at Griffin's Roost. If is not the Dornish, who is it?"

"Send a raven to Storm's End, Your Grace," the Blackfish advised. "We have one bird left for there I believe."

That was what they decided. Stannis wrote to Ser Courtney Penrose at Storm's End to investigate the matter and report his findings to Ser Davos at King's Landing. If Davos had the sense Stannis knew he had, he had already sent a ship or raven to ask the same thing. Soon the message was written, as was one for King's Landing letting Ser Davos know they had received his messages and also to tell him to get Selyse and Shireen out of the city as soon as possible. Stannis did not include any of his other plans in the message. For one he had not decided yet. He also did not want such information to fall into enemy hands. The two birds took off before it got dark.

After it was done Stannis retired to his quarters for a late supper. Devan was waiting for him outside his quarters. His room was clean and his supper was already laid out on the table next to a pitcher of lemon water. Stannis sat and Devan waited to do whatever he asked.

Stannis ate some and drank a bit of water. He looked at Devan. "Your father is well. I had a letter from him today."

"That is good to hear, Your Grace."

"It was more than ten days old," Stannis added.

"I trust the Lord of Light will protect him and all the people of King's Landing, Your Grace."

"Yes," said Stannis as he brooded. "But I trust more in Ser Davos. He will see that the Tyrells never set foot in King's Landing."

"Yes, Your Grace."

After he finished eating Stannis and Devan left the room and went outside. As was his habit he walked among the men in the evenings, visiting the lines, making sure all were as well as could be. They had plenty of food so that helped. The tents kept them mostly dry while they slept, but when on the battle lines the men were wet. The lands soggy with mud caused even more grumbling. The mud stuck to his boots as he walked and in places they had to pass around large puddles and areas where a man would sink up to his knees if he walked there.

Firewood was also getting scarce. They had to send parties of men across the Tumblestone and cut more and ship it across the flowing river. This they did at night and Stannis now went to the boat landing place and watched the men at work. He examined the fast flowing river and saw it was almost to the top of its banks.

"One more day of hard rain and it will flood," he commented to Devan.

Devan looked up and Stannis followed his gaze. The sky seemed to be clearing and they could see stars and a half moon. "Maybe there will be no rain tomorrow, Your Grace."

He was right. The next day dawned bright and clear and cold. The sky was blue, the sun came out and despite its warmth a chill came down on the land. Soon it was more than a chill. It was freezing cold and as the day wore on the wind came from the north and began to blow hard. By noon the mud was freezing, the water in the puddles and Riverroad ruts was covering with ice and everywhere men shivered and their frosty breath steamed as they talked and breathed.

"It is a sign from the Lord of Light," said Melisandre as they stood on the battlements. All of them were bundled up in furs. "This frost will harden the land and make our march that much faster."

"I thought your god was a fire god," the Blackfish said to her without mirth.

"The Lord of Light uses all instruments in the battle against evil." She turned to Stannis and he could feel the warmth from her body even on this frigid day. "What have you decided, my King?"

"We will go south to relieve the siege of King's Landing," Stannis answered.

"It is a mistake, Your Grace," she said quietly but Stannis knew the others had heard her.

"We shall see," he replied. He looked at Edmure and Ser Brynden. "Will the rivers freeze?"

"Soon," said the Blackfish. "If the cold snap continues. A day or two at most. The Red Fork is shallower at the ford. It will most likely freeze first."

"When it freezes we will cross the Red Fork at night," said Stannis. "I ask a lot of you. Hold them here as long as you can."

They went off to make their plans. The day continued cold and there was no activity from the Lannister lines except for the Kingslayer making his usually morning foray to challenge his enemies. No one accepted again and again he left after a short time.

At noon a raven flew into the Riverrun rookery, coming from the south, and soon the maester handed the letter it carried to Stannis as he stood around the table in Edmure's solar with all of the army commanders, the Blackfish, and Melisandre, examining some laid out maps. Devan was standing nearby to carry out any orders.

The letter was from Ser Davos at King's Landing. It was small, rolled up tight, but with its words Stannis' decision to go south was taken out of his hands. He unrolled it, read it and then grunted, and handed it to Edmure, who read it aloud for everyone as Stannis stood by a window and looked out at where the Tumblestone met the wider Red Fork just to the east of the castle.

Edmure cleared his throat and read aloud. "My King, I have failed you. The city is falling as I dictate this letter to one of my sons. We were betrayed by the citizens during an assault. A mob attacked the guards at the Mud Gate when they started using wildfire on the enemy. I believe they feared another outbreak of fire. They killed the guards and opened the gates and let in the Tyrells. Ser Loras led the assault and soon had a foothold. Our men fought bravely, but were too few and too many are untrained. The Queen and Princess are already away, on a ship commanded by my eldest son, bound for Dragonstone. I am preparing to leave as well. Grand Maester Pycelle has gone to ask the Tyrells for terms, but I will not wait. I also learned that the Tyrell children were freed with the help of the Braavosi banker, Tycho Braye. Why, I know not, but I believe he is one of the Faceless Men. May the gods protect you and your army."

"When did it happen?" asked the Blackfish immediately after Edmure finished.

"Four days past," Edmure told them, looking at the date at the top of the letter.

After this a storm of talk broke out and all the commanders argued back and forth about what to do. All the while Stannis stood silent, looking out the window.

"The gods must hate us," Edmure said in a downcast voice when there was a break in the arguing.

"There is but one god, Lord Tully," Melisandre said and that finally got Stannis' attention. Stannis turned on her, anger in his eyes and all thought of talk ceased as they saw his look.

"And where was he when my capital fell?" Stannis shouted at her. "Where was he when this Braavosi helped Ser Loras and his sister escaped?"

"Looking to the North, my King, that is where the Lord of Light was," Melisandre replied in a calm voice. "Seeing what is happening in the North and knowing we must go there. You must go there. You are the one to lead us in this final battle."

"Now I am to believe your god is forcing this situation so I must go north? No, not your god. The Lannisters, the Tyrells, my enemies. They are forcing me to do so."

Edmure perked up and dared to speak. "Then you are going north, Your Grace?"

Stannis took a deep breath and decided. "It seems we have no choice. The capital will have fallen by now. If we lay siege to it in turn the Lannisters will attack us from the rear. And we still know not what the Dornish are doing. Therefore, we must march north, to face the Others and their wights if they breach the Wall. We will march on the Twins and then Moat Cailin if need be. Winterfell and the Wall even if conditions warrant it. When the Others are defeated or checked we will go into winter quarters. When spring comes after the first harvest we will move south. This time with Ned Stark and his Northmen behind us, as well as the wildlings. That will be the price for them joining the realm."

The commanders began an animated discussion of this plan and one question came up above all others.

"What of supplies, Your Grace?" one commander asked.

"They will come by sea. We still have Dragonstone and many ships," Stannis replied. "They will sail into White Harbor and the Manderlys will secure our supply lines. Lord Baelish is by now in the Vale. Working his glib tongue on Lady Arryn, getting her to join us I trust. They will be a thorn in the Lannisters side until this business up north is settled. They also have plenty of supplies. No war has touched the Vale yet."

"It is a faint hope to place our trust in the Vale, Your Grace," said the Blackfish, dampening the rising enthusiasm of the commanders. "My niece is not willing to take any risk."

"Baelish will not be respected by the lords of the Vale," Edmure added. "They will see him as upjumped commoner, Your Grace."

"He is Lord of Harrenhal. He has my royal warrant to act as my emissary. Your sister and the lords of the Vale will follow his commands or there will be consequences. And if she thinks Tyrion Lannister will forget what she did to him she is mistaken. Lannisters do not leave those who wronged them in peace for long. As for us, the army crosses the Tumblestone as soon as the ice can support a horse and wagon."

"The Tumblestone runs deep and fast, Your Grace," the Blackfish told him. "It may be days before it freezes. If the weather stays cold."

Stannis turned to Melisandre. "If you still have any say with your god it is time to prove it once more. Ask him to freeze the river so we may cross."

"I will need a prisoner to sacrifice for such a thing," she answered and Stannis bristled and stared at her.

"One prisoner," he finally said and for an instant he thought he saw triumph and joy in her eyes. Well, at least it was better than the fear he had seen too much of lately.

Now the Blackfish got angry. "You promised to stop this madness."

"I have said all I will say on this," Stannis said as he glared at Ser Brynden. "Unlock your cages and give her a prisoner."

And then he left them without another word and went to his quarters to think. Devan followed him. They walked in silence for a bit and then Stannis turned to the young squire.

"I am sure your father and brothers are well."

"Yes, Your Grace," said Devan in a quiet voice. "I…I…yes. I am sure."

Nothing more needed to be said. Stannis knew how he felt. His own wife and daughter were also still in harm's way, even though they were now on ship. No doubt Davos managed to get himself and his sons out as well.

He was hungry and sent Devan to fetch him some bread and cheese. Then he entered his rooms and sat at a table and thought on what to do and thought more on Davos' letter. The Braavosi had helped the Tyrells escape. A Faceless Man? Perhaps. The Lannisters had enough gold to hire such a man. He thought Tycho Braye was just a banker, that he had left the capital more than two moon's turns ago. There was more to this story than what Davos' brief letter had stated.

The citizens of King's Landing turned on the guards protecting them. Fire. They feared more fire. Or maybe they had feared the red woman and her fire. Stannis knew there had been grumbling in the capital when he had the prisoners burned. There had also been rumors Stannis would banish the Seven in favor of his new god. Also, many returning citizens were angry that their hidden wealth had been confiscated. All in all they had plenty to be mad about and plenty to worry about if Stannis continued to sit on the Iron Throne.

That he could see it plainly now made no difference. He would not have done anything differently. Now his capital was gone and he had no choice but to go North. He had no allies in the south and too many enemies. Even if the Dornish stayed neutral how could he face both the power of the Reach and the West? Edmure had been right about his sister and her lords. She would likely bend to Baelish's will but would the lords? More than likely not, unless Baelish was more a wizard at the art of persuasion than he was at making money appear out of thin air.

The Storm Lands were still a Baratheon stronghold but almost all the knights and fighting men were with Stannis here. The capital region as well was denude of manpower, being either here or with Davos at King's Landing. How many of them would turn their cloaks and side with the Tyrells once the capital fell? Most, Stannis surmised. As for the Iron Islands, he had no word from the Greyjoys about his proposals. And the rumors continued that the Iron Islands were about to be engulfed in civil war between Balon Greyjoy's brothers and his children. Who was on who's side was still unclear.

But in the North he still had one strong ally. Ned Stark would stay by him to the bitter end. He hated the Lannisters more than anything. Stark might even be with him now if not for the trouble at the Wall. Hopefully that would be settled soon. The Wall had stood for eight thousand years. It would protect the realm against the Others. Stannis would give the Gift to the wildlings. But they would have to join him in his fight first.

As he thought on this a horrifying high pitched scream came from outside. It went on for a while and it was soon beginning to unnerve Stannis. He thought about going to tell his men to shoot arrows into the victim but mere moments later came the voice of the Blackfish arguing with Devan outside.

"Let me past, boy!" shouted the Blackfish.

"I must announce you first, my lord," Devan replied in a strong tone for one so young and then the door just burst open and the Blackfish stood there with Devan behind him holding a plate of bread and cheese.

"Leave us, Devan," Stannis said calmly as he remained seated. The door closed and the Blackfish stood there, glaring at him.

"Make her stop it. Now."

Stannis ground his teeth at the impertinence of the man but he still needed him so remained calm. "It is too late. You heard the screams."

"This is madness, Your Grace. A god cannot freeze a river."

Stannis raised his eyebrows. "I am not so certain. I have seen Melisandre do strange and terrible and wondrous things. She has power, Ser Brynden, powers beyond what any man has. You have no doubt heard how she set the Tyrell army on fire?"

"I have heard. What I want to know is why she cannot do it again if she is so powerful?"

"She claims she must have sacrifices for her powers to work."

"Rubbish. It's a trick, a glamour, like that flaming sword you carry that gives off no heat."

The Blackfish had seen Stannis' sword taken out of its sheath during the retreat. Stannis had pulled it to rally the men in a counterattack when the Lannister cavalry got too close to the column of marching men. Its glowing fire seemed to frighten the enemy and embody Stannis' men with renewed courage. Afterward the Blackfish asked for a closer look at the sword and Stannis had obliged him. Stannis knew it was a glamour as well, some trick of Melisandre's, but its symbol gave strength to his mean and that was all that mattered.

"Her destruction of the Tyrell army camp was no mummer's trick, I assure you."

The screams coming from outside suddenly stopped.

"There, it is done," said Stannis. "There will be no more."

The Blackfish grunted. "Until the next time you need her. I think I will keep all the Lannister prisoners here, Your Grace. I may need them to negotiate better terms once you are far away."

Stannis pursed his lips. "Such terms better not include the Riverlands joining the Lannisters."

The Blackfish snorted. "You still don't understand. We want nothing to do with this war. We want peace."

"As do I."

"But at what price?" the Blackfish asked and then he left before Stannis could answer. He let the man go. There was no point arguing with one as stubborn as he was. Stannis would have hung a lesser man for such insolence. But not this one. He needed him still.

Now came chanting from outside and Stannis opened his door. Devan was in the corridor, on the opposite wall looking through a window down below. Stannis joined him and he dipped his head. Stannis looked outside and saw the iron cage Melisandre had brought with her from King's Landing. Under it was a great fire and inside was a charred corpse still burning. Around it stood Melisandre and many of her followers, chanting their prayers.

"She will bring us victory," Devan said with awe in his voice.

Stannis said nothing but just took the plate of food from Devan and told him he could join the others. After Devan left Stannis went to his rooms and closed the door. Victory he did want, but the Blackfish's words echoed in his mind. At what price? And in a mere moment he had his answer. At any price, for if he lost, no doubt he would also end up in an iron cage before they cut his head off. Or worse.

Stannis slept well as usual. He was just stirring when Devan came bursting into his rooms shouting about something before he was awake. Stannis was full of anger as he climbed out of his bed.

"Boy! Did not your father teach you proper manners in the presence of a King?!"

Devan got down on one knee. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but…but…look!"

He got up and opened the shutters. A cold blast of air entered the room and Stannis shivered in his nightclothes. Devan fetched a robe and helped him put it on. Stannis came to the window and was shocked at what he saw. Overnight the land had been transferred into a crystal white snow and ice filled picturesque dreamland. Icicles hung from everywhere on the castle walls and battlements he could see. Even the trees across the Tumblestone seemed covered in ice as well. And then Stannis noticed how quiet it was. He looked down and could not believe it. The constant gurgling of the Tumblestone was gone and it was completely frozen.

"The Red Fork as well?" he asked.

"Yes, Your Grace. Isn't it wonderful?"

"No, Devan. It is not wonderful," Stannis said as he ripped off his nightclothes. Devan helped him dress in his amour as he explained.

"Now the Lannisters can get their men across both rivers more quickly. It is time to go."

"Your breakfast, Your Grace?"

"There is no time!"

He found the Blackfish and Edmure in the courtyard, just coming through the gates on horseback. They got off and came straight toward him.

"We've been across the Tumblestone, Your Grace," Edmure reported.

"So far no enemy," the Blackfish added. "I've sent two hundred men on horse to hide in the nearby forest just in case."

Stannis approved. "And the ice?"

"It's thick and it is holding," Edmure told him. "Thank the gods."

"God," said Melisandre as she joined them. "The Lord of Light has answered my prayers."

The Blackfish grunted. "Or the Seven gods of Westeros made winter come here a bit early."

"We have no time for such discussions," said Stannis in admonishment. "Now let us make our plans."

"If we wait until dark the Lannisters will have substantial forces across both rivers," said the Blackfish at once.

"Then we must leave now," Stannis said.

"They will see you move and hit you on the march in force," said Edmure. "Or attack us here before the move is completed."

Stannis was about to reply when Melisandre spoke up. "I will distract them."

"How, my lady?" the Blackfish asked in a skeptical tone.

"You will see," she answered and turned to Stannis. "The army should leave when ready my King. I will join you when I have done what I can."

Stannis stared at her and wondered if she really had her powers back and her god had answered her prayers or was this some turn of fate that froze everything. Maybe even the work of the Seven as the Blackfish suggested. But he had no time to judge the matter.

"Prepare the army to leave," he ordered and soon the whole army was in the midst of getting ready to go. It took all morning and by noon the sun was warming the land and the ice and snow had begun to melt a bit.

"It must be now, Your Grace," said the Blackfish as they stood on the drawbridge over the moat.

Stannis gave the orders and the withdrawal began. They withdrew the men slowly, trying to keep them concealed behind the high earthen redoubts. As they marched in single file back to the castle they crossed the drawbridge and moved down toward the Tumblestone. They crossed the frozen river in the shadow of the castle, near where the Tumblestone joined the Red Fork, hopefully where the Lannisters could not spot them. First the Blackfish led more of the few cavalry they had across the ice-covered Tumblestone in case of an incursion of Lannister cavalry. Then came several thousand infantry, followed by supply wagons and then more infantry. Stannis and Devan stood by the riverbank supervising the crossing.

It took more time and mid-afternoon was already on them. About two-thirds of the army had crossed by now and then came trouble. Stannis heard loud shouts behind him. He and Devan rode to the battle lines and looked across the field between the two armies. The Lannister infantry were pouring out of their trenches and over their earthen redoubts and were charging at a run across the ice and snow covered ground between the two armies. Clouds of arrows and crossbow bolts were coming down on the attackers and men were falling but many more still stood and were surging across the gap. Stannis knew if they got here he did not have enough men left to hold them back.

Then Edmure and Melisandre rode up beside him. She got off her horse and stood on the redoubt looking toward the charging enemy. "Now you will see the power of my god once more."

Melisandre spread her arms wide and began to chant in her foreign tongue. As she chanted a mist suddenly began to appeared on the ground in front of her at the foot of the redoubt. It seemed to come out of the ground itself. It was white and thick and it rolled away towards the charging Lannisters and soon engulfed them.

"Now," she said to Edmure and he turned and gave a shout. "NOW!"

Stannis heard the sound of several catapults being fired and through the air sailed many pots of wildfire followed by a dozen flaming arrows. The pots sailed into the white cloud of mist and the arrows soon followed. Then came a terrible _whoosh _and a burst of green flame was briefly seen. An awful scream came from the cloud and then the whole mist burst into red flames, spreading swiftly from a central point where the green fire had been.

Stannis' horse reeled back from the heat of it as did Devan's and Edmure's. But Melisandre stood and seem to glow as if she was bathed in fire itself. Her eyes turned red and were wide and round and full of ecstasy.

In front of them came a clamor of screams and yells and shouts. The magical mist burned off and they saw hundreds of men on fire, running around, screaming, rolling in the now melted ice and snow and mud on the ground. More arrows followed from Stannis' and the Tully archers and more men died. There on the far earthen redoubt Stannis saw the Lannister officers, maybe even Ser Kevan, waving to their men to retreat.

Stannis turned to Edmure. "Get the rest of my archers and siege engines across."

Edmure turned to carry out the orders and now Stannis looked to Melisandre. "You could not have done that when we faced them at the Golden Tooth? Or even two days ago?"

"The time was not right, my King."

Stannis ground his teeth. No, the time was not right, for her. She wanted him to move north the whole time. She wanted it and she got it. And he was now resigned to it.

"Time to leave, my lady," Stannis said to Melisandre and she mounted her horse and soon they were riding for the Tumblestone. The remaining Tully men looked sullen as Stannis left. They manned the few remaining catapults and kept firing arrows and crossbow bolts across the lines towards the Lannisters, who had by now beat a hasty retreat, dragging many screaming wounded with them and leaving hundreds dead on the field between the armies. Stannis hoped Ser Kevan would be more cautious with his next attack and give them time to get away. The Tully men were left to protect that retreat. Eventually he knew they would be overrun by the superior Lannister force.

Stannis, Melisandre, and Devan crossed the thick frozen ice and were soon with the army on the far side. The army was spread out in a long column and Stannis knew they were vulnerable. He put the cavalry to the west with the Blackfish and Lord Edmure in command.

"We will keep them off your backs," the Blackfish promised. He had about four hundred men on horse, many of them knights. Stannis knew the Lannisters would have more than five times their numbers. Maybe ten times.

They did not have to wait long. Soon came shouts and the Lannister cavalry were spotted in the snowy flat lands by the river to the west. "Time to see if the Kingslayer bleeds," said the Blackfish.

He said not another word and then he led his nephew and the rest of the Tully and Baratheon cavalry in a mad charge towards the Lannister cavalry. Stannis placed his archers and crossbowmen on the left flank of the army and shouted to his commanders to form thick columns as they marched. The columns could quickly be converted to squares if the Lannisters broke through.

They did not break through. The Blackfish's mad dashes stopped the Lannisters. Many died on both sides, but the Lannisters did not get near the retreating army. Darkness soon came and the cold increased.

Stannis forced them to continue marching. They marched all night and when morning came they were away, but not as far as Stannis would have liked The snow and cold had slowed them considerable. The army was exhausted and collapsed in its tracks in a large forest. Some men had dropped out on the way and Stannis ordered them left behind to catch up as best they could. He had no men to spare to care for any weaklings. When they finally halted the commanders had to kick the men to force them to set up tents and get fires going and cook a meal. At least now they had plenty of wood.

Soon after they ate and were beginning to rest a group of riders came in from the direction of Riverrun. It was Edmure with some guards. They had ridden all night as well.

"Report," Stannis said curtly after he told an exhausted Edmure and his companions to rise from bended knee from in front of Stannis and Melisandre.

"We held them and they fell back," Edmure began. "The Kingslayer and my uncle came to blows. The Blackfish was wounded in the left side but he says he wounded Ser Jaime as well. It was all confusion and I did not see their fight. Ser Jaime suddenly retreated and his men lost heart and fell back."

"That is good to hear," said Stannis. "And your uncle?"

"Under the maesters' care, cursing them and demeaning to be let back into the fray."

"A good man he is," Melisandre said.

Edmure nodded and then his face fell a bit as he took out a rolled up raven message from inside his fur coat. "A rider came to me soon after the battle. A raven letter came to Riverrun after the battle had begun, Your Grace. It's from my sister at Winterfell."

Stannis felt a sudden shiver run up his back when he saw the look on Edmure's face. "What news?" Stannis asked.

But it was Melisandre who spoke, her voice chilly and ominous on this cold morning. "The Wall has fallen."

Edmure nodded. "She said it fell more than twelve days ago, at least when she wrote the letter. The Lord Commander, Jon Snow, led the bulk of the survivors in retreat to Winterfell. Lord Stark and his son Robb led the rearguard to hold the Others at bay. But…no one knows where they are now."

"A disaster," said Stannis in shock, unable to hide his emotions for once. He had hoped the Wall would hold, perhaps forever. Now…now he had only one choice.

"Get some food and have a rest," he ordered Edmure and his men. "Then I will have a task for you."

He went to his tent with Melisandre and Devan. "Fetch me ink and parchment and quills," he ordered Devan and soon the squire returned with the writing tools and then left them alone.

It was one of the most painful things he ever did in his life. The letter he thought about for a long time, how to word it properly. She helped him and comforted him and led him to the conclusion that it was the right thing, the only thing they could do. When he was done, he rolled it up, sealed it and called Edmure to his tent.

"Bring this to our enemies," he said as he held out the scroll.

Edmure looked at him for a long moment and then just dipped his head. He took the scroll and saw the name on the outside in black ink, just below the King's seal.

"Lord Tyrion Lannister?" Edmure said in surprise.

"Yes, Tyrion Lannister," Stannis repeated. "I have decided to take your advice, Lord Tully. Just make sure Ser Kevan knows this is for the Imp's eyes only."

"He is far away in Casterly Rock, Your Grace."

"That he is. You best be on your way."

Edmure hesitated. "May I ask what terms you offered?"

"No, you may not," Stannis said immediately. "If it comes to nothing then it is best if few people know what it says."

"Of course," Edmure said and then he hesitated again.

"Speak your mind, Lord Tully."

"I may be taken prisoner, Your Grace. The Lannisters will be thick between here and Riverrun by now."

"Then so be it," Stannis said in cold tones. "If taken prisoner, demand to be brought before Ser Kevan. Even go as far as Casterly Rock in person if you must. But make sure the Imp gets this."

Edmure dipped his head. "As you command, Your Grace."

Edmure left and was soon gone from the camp. Stannis let his men sleep half the day and then roused them. They grumbled but got up and soon the army was on the march again after a cold meal of bread and dried fish. Before they left some cavalry came in from the clashes with the Lannisters, but it was less than one hundred. It was all the cavalry he had left and that was not good.

As they marched the sun stayed shining and the extreme cold continued. The men and horses shivered and filled the air with their frosty breath. If this continued he would soon lose men to the cold. Sickness was another worry. The lack of cavalry was the biggest worry of all. He could not win any battles without cavalry as recent events proved.

But the Twins were ahead and Walder Frey had plenty of men, including cavalry. Seagard was nearer and from there once more he would try to contact the Iron Islands. Baelish was in the Vale, hopefully working his magic. Yet, now he had a bigger worry. Ahead was the unknown. The Others had breached the Wall and were invading the North. Ned Stark and his son were lost it seemed. Stannis now knew he would have to go as far as Moat Cailin. The narrow neck of land between the two oceans of Westeros was the best spot to build a defensive system. Hopefully, they could arrive before the Others. Hopefully, they would stop them there. Hopefully they would have enough supplies to last for winter. If not, all of Westeros would be overrun.


	25. Chapter 25 Tyrion

**Ned Stark Lives Part 2 Chapter 25 Tyrion**

"What happened to the gaoler?" Cersei demanded. She was angry and her green eyes blazed as she glared at her youngest brother.

"He had a bad case of sword through bowels," Tyrion said from where he sat at his table in his solar as he sucked the meat off a chicken leg. He tossed the bone to the floor where a small pet dog he had recently acquired chewed on other bones noisily. Cersei's face was curdled in disgust and Tyrion knew it wasn't because of the dead gaoler, who she didn't give a care for. No, she was disgusted because Tyrion had at last moved into their father's old lavish quarters, bringing in his own special made furniture for a man of his short stature. Now he sat in his high chair in their father's old solar, a large table covered in a lavish meal Tyrion had ordered for himself and his old friend, at last returned to his side. Bronn was also chewing on roasted chicken and drinking wine, now dressed in better clothes than Tyrion had ever seen him in except on his wedding day.

But the clothes did not make him any less than the black-hearted cutthroat Bronn had always been. He had visited the gaoler shortly after Tyrion appraised him of what went on in his absence. Soon the goaler was dead, his gutted body turned upside down in the same barrel of water he had tortured Shae in. Now if only Tyrion could do the same to his sister and all his other enemies, he might be able to sleep better at night.

As the sellsword turned lord swallowed some chicken he let out a loud burp. "Pardon me," Bronn said and Tyrion laughed.

"Being a lord has at least taught you some manners."

"High society has had a bad affect on me," Bronn quipped.

Cersei grew more angry the more they ignored her. "I demand to know…"

Tyrion sharply interrupted her. "He tortured Shae! What did you think I was going to do? Let him live a long and healthy life? I sometimes think you know me not, dear sister."

"Oh, I know you, you little worm. I know you well enough." With that she stormed out of the room.

"I think she's mad," Bronn said after Cersei was gone.

"Yes, well, she's always mad these days. Especially with my brother so far away. And she might not even know about this dead gaoler if you had been more discrete and had gotten rid of the body."

"You said kill him so I killed him. What? You wanted me to take him to the battlements and push him off into the sea?"

"Ah. Now you are thinking. Yes, that would have been better. The next time do it that way."

"There will be a next time?"

"For certain. Once I get my hands on…Ah, yes, Pod. What is it?"

Podrick had entered the room and dipped his head. "Sandor Clegane to see you, my lord."

"Send him in."

Pod left and the Hound entered. He did not even say hello or bow his head or anything. He merely took his sword off, propped it against the table and sat and grabbed the flagon of wine. He poured a drink and gulped it and then glared at Tyrion.

"Where's my brother?"

"On his way according to the latest news. Should be here in a day or two."

The Hound grunted. "Good."

He put his cup down, stood, strapped on his sword. "Stay, have some more," Tyrion said.

"No," said the Hound curtly and he left.

Tyrion shrugged. "I've never known him to refuse a drink when not on duty."

"He's getting ready," Bronn said.

"To do what?"

"Kill his brother. Drink will weaken him. I bet he doesn't touch another drop until either him or the Mountain are dead."

"Who's the smart money on?"

"The Mountain, of course," Bronn said as he poured himself another cup full. "I told you that at Harrenhal and it still stands. Of course, the Hound has many good reasons to kill his brother if all the stories are true. That might just make a difference. And the odds on the Hound are better. The local bookmakers have gotten wind of the coming duel and are taking wagers already."

"Have gotten wind? How?"

"I told them."

"Gods. How much did you bet?"

"Ten thousand dragons on the Hound."

Tyrion sputtered the wine he was drinking. "Ten thousand! Do you even have that much?"

"No…but you do."

"I…what?"

"You will cover my bets for me, right?"

Tyrion sighed heavily. "Gods, Bronn. Did you spend all I gave you already?"

"Not just me. The wife and her family seemed to think what is mine is theirs as well. I also spent a bit on upkeep for the holdfast and on a new herd of sheep. I might just go into the wool business. So I'm a bit short these days."

"And you expect me to cover your bets? That is going a bit far."

"Tell me you don't have it and I'll forget it and cover it myself somehow. Course, if I can't cover it and I lose and the lads I placed the bet with come looking for me, a few more people might have to die."

Tyrion just shook his head in resignation. "Right. Ten thousand. I think I can scourge that up somewhere. If you lose, we'll just add it to any future things you must do for me. And if you win, I get half."

Bronn shrugged. "Fair enough. The odds are now four to one on the Hound winning. So that would make forty thousand dragons. Twenty for you and twenty for me."

Tyrion shook his head. "No. We don't count the ten I am putting up to cover the bet. So, I get my ten back and you get fifteen and I get fifteen more."

Bronn grinned. "I see you've gambled before. So be it. Now we just have to make sure the Hound wins."

"How?"

"We cheat."

"I assumed that much. Again, I ask how?"

Bronn stood. "Leave that to me. Now I have a little wife waiting in my quarters who has need of a good fucking to keep her and me happy."

He turned to leave and Tyrion stopped him. "It's good to have you back. If only…" But he didn't finish the thought. Bronn knew what he was talking about anyway.

"If I had been here I'd be on the run or dead now and so would she. And you would be banished or some other foolish thing you highborns do to each other. Cause you know I would have done anything for you. So let's be glad I wasn't here and it all worked out."

"It didn't all work out," Tyrion said quietly. "Shae is not here."

"I can find where she is."

"I know where she is."

"Then visit her."

Tyrion shook his head. "I won't. Even if she would see me it would be too painful to leave her again."

"Then you are truly fucked, my friend."

"Yes. Truly."

Bronn seemed ready to leave again but he hesitated at the door. "You really do love her, don't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Bronn shrugged. "Just don't like to see you so…what's the word…morose?"

Tyrion laughed a bit. "Fancy words, good table manners, fine clothing, what has come over you Bronn?"

Bronn ignored the sally. "Might be time for you to try to forget her and meet someone new."

"She said the same thing the day they took her."

"Well, there you have it."

"Not yet. It's too soon. If ever."

Before Bronn could open his mouth Pod entered again. "There has been a rider, my lord. From the Tyrells he says. He's at the main gate and refuses to talk to anyone but you."

They immediately left the room and went to see this rider. He was waiting next to the guard house with a leather satchel in his hand. On his green surcoat was the golden rose sigil of the Tyrells. He immediately got down on one knee.

"Lord Tyrion, I bring a letter from Lord Mace Tyrell."

He opened the flap on his case and withdrew a thick letter, wrapped in green ribbon and sealed with gold wax. He handed the letter to Tyrion.

"Well, this is interesting," Tyrion said. "A letter from one of my enemies." The tone and words were calculated to get some more information from the rider but he did not offer any more.

"Lord Tyrell told me to wait for a reply, my lord," was all the rider said. Tyrion told Pod to find the man food and a place to rest.

Tyrion swiftly opened the letter and read while Bronn hovered nearby and the men on guard duty watched him, seemingly anxious to know what was going on. As Tyrion's face broke into a grin Bronn asked him what it was all about.

"Our friend has succeeded. Ser Loras and his sister are free and Mace Tyrell is now wanting to be our ally again. His men are advancing to lay siege to King's Landing as we speak."

"Really?" Bronn said with some skepticism in his tone. "Just like that? Has he made any demands?"

"Oh, yes," said Tyrion. "The fat flower wants his piece of the pie. Come, I must call on the King and my wretched sister to discuss this news."

They soon learned Cersei was dining with Tommen and Myrcella in Cersei's quarters. The Hound and Ser Preston stood outside the door.

"She doesn't want to see you, my lord," the Hound said, a bit more polite than he had been earlier.

"Tell her and the King I have a letter from Mace Tyrell."

The Hound did so and Tyrion was soon admitted to the quarters. Bronn, as usual, waited outside, despite being a lord now. Cersei and her children sat at her big table eating their supper of roasted quail and many side dishes. Ser Arys was already inside, standing directly behind the King's seat. The Hound entered as well, standing directly behind Tyrion. Not for the first time Tyrion thought the Kingsguard needed to add more members, but with his brother distracted by the war the positions left open by the three dead members had not yet been filled. For certain Ser Loras Tyrell would be offered a spot once the war ended. As for the others, Jaime had not yet suggested anyone.

Cersei gave Tyrion one of her usual glares, which he had learned to ignore years ago. "So…out with it. What does the traitorous flower want of the lion now?"

"Just this," Tyrion said as he handed her the letter. She read quickly as Tyrion spoke to his nephew and niece.

"How goes the war, Uncle?" Tommen asked him right away.

"Splendid, my King," Tyrion replied. "We shall soon have everything back in order and set the realm to rights."

"Is there good news?" Myrcella asked, her tone anxious.

"Yes. We may have some new allies."

Cersei had finished reading by then. "He can't be serious," she said as she put the letter down. She looked more angry than happy at the news, as Tyrion expected when she learned what the Tyrells wanted.

"Apparently," Tyrion answered her. He turned to Tommen. "My King, Lord Mace Tyrell's children have been freed from King's Landing, due in no small part to a plan I set in motion. Now…"

Cersei interrupted him. "I would like to hear more details of this plan."

"Yes, Uncle, tell us all about it," Tommen asked eagerly. He always liked stories of adventure and bravery, Tyrion knew.

Tyrion grinned. "Well, Your Grace, it was simply a matter of finding the right person for the job. I hired someone to infiltrate King's Landing and set them free. My man has completed this task and now the Tyrells are making demands of us as the price for joining our side in the war against Stannis the pretender."

"Hired someone?" Cersei asked in suspicion. "Who? What did you pay him"

She would not let it go. "It is of no consequence who, sister dear, nor how much it cost. It needed to be done and so I did what was necessary. The job is done, the man has been paid in the coin we still have plenty of, and he is now on another job for me."

"We must reward him in some way," Tommen said when Tyrion finished. Tyrion barely heard him as he looked at Cersei, who said nothing but had that look of suspicion he knew only too well.

Tyrion turned back to Tommen. "Your Grace, that is most kind. He would gladly accept any reward but now he is far away and still doing what he can for us to achieve victory. I assure you once the war is done I will reveal his name and you can find a suitable reward for him." Tyrion knew that would never happen. If Jaqen H'ghar was still alive he was most likely pursuing the red woman. And when that job was done he would disappear again. At least Tyrion hoped he would.

"Very well, Uncle," Tommen said. He turned to his mother. "What do the Tyrells want?" He sounds more like a true king every day, Tyrion thought. May the gods ensure he never finds out he is not a true king.

Cersei bristled. "Mace Tyrell wants a seat on the small council."

"I think that is of small importance," Tyrion advised. "He is a great lord, after all, and if he joins us we can almost be assured of victory."

"Yes," Tommen said. "We can give him a seat."

"That's not all," Cersei said swiftly. "He wants part of the Stormlands, including Storm's End."

"Isn't Storm's End ours?" Myrcella asked. "I mean, when Uncle Stannis is dead, it belongs to us, me and Tommen. We are the only Baratheon children, are we not?"

"No, you are not," Tyrion said right away, and he heard a small gasp from Cersei but he did not look at her for he knew she was assuming the worse, so he spoke swiftly. "Stannis has a daughter, Shireen, your cousin."

Myrcella nodded. "I forgot about her."

"As does everyone else," Cersei said, almost in relief, and Tyrion knew she had forgotten as well.

"Poor child is afflicted with greyscale," Tyrion reminded her. "But she is the heir to Stannis Baratheon."

Cersei stared at Tyrion. "She must be…dealt with, after the war is over."

Tyrion knew what she meant and knew she was right, despite the sickening feeling he got thinking of ordering someone to murder a child. "All in good time, sister. As for Storm's End and the Stormlands, I think we should remind Mace Tyrell that they belong to the heir of the Baratheon family, whoever that is when the war is over."

"Yes, by all means," said Cerise and Tommen agreed.

"Is that all he wants?" Tommen asked next

"No," Cersei said and now she looked uncomfortable. "He wants…he wants his daughter to be queen.

"Queen?" Myrcella said in surprise. "But Mother, you are the Queen."

"Queen Regent," Tyrion said quickly and Cersei's eyes flashed in anger for a brief moment but then she sighed.

"Yes," Cersei said. "I am Queen Regent. Lord Tyrell wants Tommen to marry his daughter Margaery."

Tommen blushed, his cheeks turning red. "No! I told you before I don't like girls! I will not get married!"

Tyrion laughed as Cersei grew angry again but calmed herself and put on her sweetest smile for Tommen. "There will be no marriage yet, my King. You are too young."

Tyrion agreed. "Yes, perhaps so. And Margaery is almost twice his age. Yet I think the fat flower wants some guarantees at this point. We did after all make overtures to have his daughter marry Joffrey. I don't see why we cannot make the same promises for Tommen. We did discuss this very matter not a moon's turn past, if you recall, sister."

"I certainly recall and I am still against it," Cersei said as she glared at him, all sweetness gone in an instant. "A seat on the council is bad enough. His daughter as a queen will make the fat flower and the rest of them insufferable."

"We may have to suffer them, sister, if we are to win the war."

"Jaime can defeat Stannis on his own," Cersei said confidently.

"He hasn't yet," Tyrion replied. The latest news spoke of a stalemate in front of the Golden Tooth. "We must act quickly or Lord Tyrell may find some way to stay neutral in all this mess now that the children are free."

Cersei sighed. "Then we have no choice?"

"No."

Tommen disagreed. "I won't get married!"

"It's not a marriage, Your Grace," said Tyrion. "Only an engagement. Once we announce it, we will be held to it, though, and when you are older you must marry her."

"Please, Uncle, Mother, I don't want to!"

"You will do what we say!" Cersei snapped at him and Tommen showed fear for a moment and then stared back at her, ready to start a fight. Tyrion quickly intervened.

"My King, some day you will wish to get married. Most men do, so…"

"You are not married, Uncle," Tommen shot back.

"I was, once," Tyrion admitted and Tommen and Myrcella both seemed surprised.

"Really?" Myrcella asked. "Who is she? Where is she?"

"Dead," said Cersei quickly. "She died many years ago, my children. It is a painful memory for Uncle Tyrion so we best not talk on it."

Myrcella seemed abashed. "Sorry, Uncle."

"Not at all, my Princess," Tyrion said, struggling to control his voice. "Like your mother says, she died a long time ago. Now as for you, my King, this engagement is necessary for us, to gain new allies and to defeat Stannis in the field of battle."

Tommen pouted but seemed calmer. "Very well. If I must. But I won't kiss her!"

Tyrion laughed again. "As you wish. You are the King after all. So I shall compose a letter saying that we agree to the terms, with the stipulations we have discussed."

"Tell him they must attack King's Landing at once," Cersei said.

"The letter says they are already advancing on the capital," Tyrion replied. "Mace Tyrell may have dawdled over receiving a reply from us, but Randyll Tarly and Ser Loras and the other commanders will insist on a swift attack to take King's Landing. I am betting Stannis' capital will soon be ours again."

Cersei nodded. "Good. Let them win a battle for their King to prove their loyalty again. As long as Mace Tyrell is not sitting on his large behind on Tommen's throne when he returns to King's Landing."

Tyrion chuckled. "I know he is a bit of a fool, but even Lord Tyrell is not that stupid. Tommen will soon be back on the Iron Throne, sister. Now, by your leave my King, I must prepare our reply."

"Yes, Uncle," Tommen said and as Tyrion and the Hound left he once more heard Tommen saying "I hate girls" and his mother admonishing him and Myrcella laughing in her pretty way.

Yes, most boys his age did not like girls much but soon he would learn to love them and then wish he could have one in his bed every night. As Tyrion thought on this he realized it had been weeks since he had a woman in his bed. He hadn't been so celibate since his journey to the Vale and back. Maybe it was time to find a woman again, if only to quell the fire in his loins. But as he came out of the room and saw Bronn showing Ser Preston some of his battle moves, all the memories of meeting Shae on the Green Fork for the first time came flooding back and the idea of another woman seemed distasteful.

"Lord Bronn, come, we have business to tend to," Tyrion said, leaving the Hound and Ser Preston behind. As Tyrion had spoken to his sister and her children Tyrion barely noticed the two Kingsguards men in the room. They had heard it all, knew all the secrets, and hadn't made a sound or said a word. Such a man had to be trusted with many such secrets. Who could they find to replace those who were dead? Tyrion began to appreciate more the difficult task his brother had.

The reply to Lord Tyrell was quickly prepared. The rider however, was passed out in bed so Tyrion left orders to let the rider sleep for the night. He would be no good to them if he was too exhausted to ride his horse with the return answer.

The next morning the rider left right after breakfast with an escort of twenty Lannister men plus a knight to represent the King in any other business. Tyrion also started preparing a follow up force to join the Tyrells at King's Landing. If the threat from the south was no longer present, then it was time to use the thousands of men he had nearby Lannisport. Cersei was still paranoid about the ironmen but by all reports they were at each others throats on their home islands and Admiral Lefford declared the sea empty of the Iron Fleet.

The day after the rider left, two thousand Lannister men at arms and cavalry left to join the Tyrell's at King's Landing. The news of the new alliance with the Tyrells swiftly spread and sept bells rang and there was much rejoicing in Lannisport. The next day at noon a raven came into Casterly Rock's rookery with more good news. Stannis was retreating from the Golden Tooth back towards Riverrun. With this news came a spell of bad weather and a chilly downpour soaked the whole region for most of the day.

Late that night as Tyrion was about to retire a knock came to his door. It was Bronn.

"The Mountain and some of his men rode through the gates a short time ago. He is on his way to see you."

Tyrion sighed. It was late but this needed to be dealt with. "Stay," he ordered Bronn and they sat in the solar and drank a cup of wine as they waited. A short time later the massive bulk of Ser Gregor Clegane entered the solar. He was wearing his thick heavy plate armor, and had his great sword strapped across his back. His hair dripped with rain and his armor was damp and looked a bit rusty in spots.

"I have returned as requested, my lord," Ser Gregor said in his deep booming voice.

"Very good," Tyrion said. "Please sit. Have some wine."

The Mountain took off his sword and left it by the door, then joined them and poured himself a cup. The chair he sat in sagged and barely held the weight of the man and his armor. Even sitting he towered over Bronn and made Tyrion seem like a small child in comparison.

"Report on the war," Tyrion said and for a while the Mountain told them all he knew of the war near the Golden Tooth. He had left before Stannis began to retreat and so this was news to him.

"He'll get trapped up in Riverrun," Ser Gregor said. "Then we'll have him where we want him."

"Yes, things are going our way," Tyrion said. "Now I suppose you want to know why I brought you back here."

"I go where I am ordered, my lord."

"Good. I have a job for you."

"As you command."

"Kill your brother."

The silence was long and Ser Gregor took his cup and drank and set it down before he spoke. "Where is he?"

"Here," Bronn said. "In the castle somewhere."

"Before I do this I want to know why."

"He is Cersei's dog now," Tyrion lied. "She is using him to threaten me and my friends. She almost toppled me from power and he stood beside her. We want him out of the way."

Ser Gregor grunted and sipped his wine. "And why do you think I will kill my own brother?"

"He hates you and has wanted to kill you for years," Tyrion said. "Tell me this is not true and we will forget the whole thing."

Ser Gregor grunted again. "It is true, as you well know. Your father and Robert kept us apart. Even you, the last time we were at Harrenhal. Now you want him dead?"

"Yes."

"Then kill him yourself," the Mountain said. "Or have your sellsword here do it for you."

"Lord sellsword now," Bronn told him with half a grin on.

"A lordship for him, is it?" the Mountain said in surprise. "Well, if he is a lord, I want the same when my brother is dead."

"You shall have it," Tyrion promised.

"Then it will be done."

"One thing," Tyrion added. "It must not be murder. If any of your pet followers try to kill your brother in his sleep I will hang the lot and throw you in a dungeon until you are old and blind. However, a challenge to single combat he will gladly accept I am sure. Then the rest is up to you."

Now the Mountain was staring at him, a mad gleam in his eye and Tyrion wondered if he had gone too far to threaten the man. Ser Gregor had a fearsome reputation, made worse by his evil temper. Rumors said he suffered terrible headaches and drank milk of the poppy like most men drank beer or wine, in amounts that would kill any ordinary man. But now the Mountain made no threats and seemed to force himself to remain calm. He stood, gulped the last of his wine and stared again at Tyrion. "I will be in the training yard tomorrow after breakfast. Tell Sandor where to find me."

With that he left and Tyrion wondered if had not just overplayed his hand.

Bronn, of course, saw the flaw in the plan right away. "You're fucked if the Mountain tells the Hound what you just said."

Tyrion shrugged. "Perhaps. So I will tell the Hound first. That way he can't suspect anything. And you must remember that Sandor Clegane asked for his brother and I have delivered him. The rest is up to him."

"No, up to me, if I want to collect on that bet."

"Still plan on cheating?"

"Aye."

"How?"

"Not to fret. It's all taken care of. You got that gold handy?"

"Yes, I always carry ten thousand dragons in my pocket," Tyrion said in his most sarcastic manner. "What's the rush?"

"Need to get that bet placed tonight if they plan on fighting on the morrow."

That took Tyrion by surprise. "But…it's just the first part, the challenge. Isn't it?"

Bronn laughed. "And what do you think is going to happen when the Hound lays eyes on his brother? He's not going to play by any rules. He's going to come out swinging and to hell with any challenges."

"Very well." Tyrion quickly took a piece of parchment and wrote a note for Bronn to give to the master of the vaults. "Ten thousand and no more. And don't tell anyone what it is for. Take Pod with you in case of trouble."

"Not to worry. The book makers all know who has my back so they will be nice and polite."

Tyrion handed him the note and soon Bronn was gone. For a while Tyrion brooded on the outcome of this encounter he had orchestrated. It mattered not who would win. All Tyrion had to lose was ten thousand in gold. But he strangely found himself hoping the Hound would win, and not just because of the money, which he had more than enough of anyway, despite the costs of the war. The more he dug into the finances of the his family, and the more he explored the treasury vaults, the more he realized that they had more money than he ever suspected they had. Wealth that had been gathering for centuries, no, thousands of years, sitting, protected from looters and robbers and invading armies in the Rock. He was sure his father knew how much it really was, and that's what gave him confidence in his dealings with the rest of the realm.

As Tyrion though on the coming fight he looked down at the floor where his little dog was chewing on a bone, quiet the whole time Bronn and the Mountain had been here. Tyrion ruffled its fur and the dog growled in contentment. He hadn't name it yet and suddenly he had a funny thought.

"Yes, I shall call you Sandor," he said to the dog and then Tyrion ruffled its fur once more and he went to bed, alone once again.

The next morning Tyrion found the Hound standing guard outside of Myrcella's door. With Tyrion were five men of his own household guard.

"We need to talk Clegane," Tyrion said. "These men will take over the duty of guarding the Princess for now."

The Hound said nothing and after the men took position outside the Princess' quarters he followed Tyrion as they walked through the halls.

"Your brother is here," Tyrion said.

"I know," came the answer.

"Oh?" That took him by surprise.

The Hound snorted. "You think I do not have eyes of my own waiting for Gregor? He is a hard man not to notice. Many were talking of him this morning in the barracks at breakfast. Two of his men were there. They took one look at me and near shit their breeches and ran off. Fucking cowards. They have no stomach unless they are at Gregor's side."

"Indeed," Tyrion said. "A small part of my surprise is that you have not already tried to kill him."

"In good time. Gregor is here now. He will find me, and that will be it." The Hound said it without emotion and Tyrion could see in his scarred face that the Hound was already preparing for battle. Maybe even for his own death.

"I told him to kill you for me."

Now the Hound laughed loud and hard, his laughter echoing in the corridor and then his face grew serious again. "You little shit," he growled. "Playing both ends against each other, are you?"

"Yes."

"You're too smart for your own good sometimes."

"So I've been told."

"I kill him, I'm your man. He kills me, then I can no longer support your sister or anyone else against you. Gregor is already your loyal bannerman. So you win no matter what happens."

"You've got it all figured out."

"No, Imp. Not yet. I still don't know how to kill him."

That surprised Tyrion. "Good gods man! You've had years to think on it."

"Years, aye. But Gregor has only one weakness, his rage. And in battle that is an advantage for him."

"Perhaps. But maybe the gods will smile on you." Or Bronn will figure out a way to cheat. "Your brother said to tell you he will be in the training yard."

The Hound's face took on a grim cast and he breathed deeply. "Then it is time to settle this once and for all."

Bronn was right. The fight would be now and there would be no stopping it. It had been coming to this for years and now there would be an end. One way or another House Clegane would be short a member very soon.

The training yard was in an open area off one wing of the castle, on the side near the sea. It had a large dirt covered open space ringed by a low stone wall that had two gates. Above the low stonewall were three tiers of benches on two sides where spectators could watch the men training or enjoy the spectacle if some feat at arms were held. As Tyrion and the Hound entered the fighting arena Bronn was nearby leaning against the wall, with Pod standing near him, looking nervous as usual. Next to Pod was the Hound's big shield and Pod was holding a heavy canvas sack as well. Tyrion wondered if for a moment this was something Bronn had in mind for cheating.

In the middle of the arena stood the massive bulk of Ser Gregor Clegane, dressed in his thick plate armor, no surcoat at all, with his massive shield on his left arm emblazoned with the three black dogs on a field of yellow, the sigil of House Clegane. He did not have on his helmet, it being held nearby one of the men who followed Clegane.

There were seven of his followers, a motley lot, outfitted in different garb and with a variety of weapons on their bodies, swords, daggers, maces, and one even had a spear. Tyrion did not know their names or care for them at all. They were brigands and cutthroats, men used to violence and rape and taking what they wanted. They had hitched their wagon to the Mountain in hopes of plunder and women and during the war they had gotten plenty of both as they had terrorized the Riverlands under Lord Tywin's blessing.

"Those will be trouble," Tyrion said to Bronn, looking at the men with Ser Gregor.

Bronn looked up to the tiers of seat where Tyrion now saw ten men at arms carrying crossbows enter from an upper door and take position on both sides of the training ground. "All taken care of," Bronn said. "No one will interfere."

Tyrion was about to reply when the Hound bellowed. "GREGOR!"

The Mountain's back had been turned to them and he had not seen them enter but his men did and now they all laughed and pointed and the Mountain turned. "So, the pup…the pup…has come out to play…has he?"

The Mountain's words were slurred and he looked glassy eyed and his movements looked slow.

"Ser, what's the matter?" one of his men asked.

"Shut up!" the Mountain shouted as he swung his armored fist at the man and struck him in the face and sent him flying back where he landed on his back with a thud. Blood poured from his nose and mouth and he was out cold, if not dead. His companions carried him to the low stone wall and placed him on the lowest tier of benches.

The Mountain looked across the training arena at the Hound. "My brother wants to talk. So…so…Sandor…what now? What now?"

"Time to end it, Gregor," the Hound said in his low growl. "Time to pay you for all the hurt you did."

"Hurt I did? I kill who they tell me to kill, same as you. You are not different…little… brother." As he spook the Mountain slurred his word again.

Tyrion looked to Bronn who grinned and winked. What has he done?

"Too much wine for breakfast?" the Hound asked. "Or still drinking the milk of the poppy? Still have the headaches? Is that why you killed them? Did they bother you?"

"Killed who? So many I have lost count."

The Hound screamed at him and Tyrion shuddered at the noise. "YOU KNOW WHO! OUR SISTER! OUR FATHER!"

The Mountain laughed and the Hound growled and pulled out his sword. "TELL ME WHY BEFORE THIS ENDS!"

"She was in the way," the Mountain said, still slurring his words. "She fell down the stairs and cracked her head. I can't help it if she was clumsy. I barely touched her."

"Murderer," the Hound growled in a lower voice.

"You are no better," the Mountain retorted.

"And Father? Why kill Father?"

"Because he tried to kill me."

"LIES!"

"No, brother. He took me hunting. He…he knew what I am. A monster…just like you!"

"YOU MADE ME INTO A MONSTER!"

"You shouldn't take my things."

"LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT MY FACE! I WAS JUST A BOY!"

"We are not boys anymore, Sandor. Father…after our sister died I told him what I had done. For years he did nothing. But he was brooding on it. So he took me hunting…tried to stab me in the back…I hit him and he fell off his horse and broke his neck."

"Lies! All lies! You wanted the title, the land. You could not wait for him to die! You are a monster!"

"Then slay me, good ser! If you can," the Mountain said and he laughed and his men laughed with him. "Sandor always wanted to be a knight and now he pisses on us all. Slay the monster so…so all the pretty little girls will love you!" He staggered a bit and then shook his head and continued. "That's what you want, have always wanted! Which little tart has your heart now? Which little whore cannot bear to look at you as you steal secret looks at her?! I know your secrets, too, little brother! I know your secrets! And when you are dead I will find your whore and rape her and gut her just like I am going to gut you! Like I raped Elia of Dorne with her babe's blood still on my hands. Who is she? Where is your secret love now? Tell me her name before you die!"

"NEVER!" screamed the Hound and his face was contorted in rage. "Now we fight! TO THE DEATH!"

"HELMET!" screamed the Mountain at his men and his helmet was quickly handed to him.

The Hound looked lost for a moment and then Podrick opened his bag and took out the Hound's dog's head helmet and handed it to Sandor Clegane. He said not a word but swiftly put it on. Pod handed him his shield and helped him strap it to his left arm.

"You best get out of the way," Bronn said to Tyrion and without a warning he picked him up and shoved him up over the stone wall and onto the lowest tier of wooden benches.

Tyrion straightened his clothing as Bronn and Pod lifted themselves over the wall and joined him. On the other side of the field the Mountain's men were scrambling to get away as well and soon only the Hound and his brother remained in the training arena. Somehow word was spreading and more people were entered the benches from upper doorways connected to both side.

"This is going to turn into a spectacle," Tyrion said in worry.

"Aye," said Bronn. "Lots have money on this. I spread the word that they would be fighting soon."

Tyrion now wondered if he had made a mistake in all this. "What have you done to the Mountain?"

"Me?" Bronn said in mock surprise. "Nothing much. Except to tell the maesters that the Mountain requested their strongest batch of milk of the poppy, well fortified with dreamwine. The maester thought I was mad but he made the concoction after I told him who it was for. I personally delivered it this morning. You can see the results."

Indeed Tyrion did see the results. The Mountain seemed slow, and his steps faltered. He held his massive sword in just one hand, but it seemed to droop as if he had not the strength to hold it up.

As he was thinking this the two monstrously huge Clegane brothers circled each other, swords out, warily looking at each other. People began to fill the benches and cheering began. The ten men at arms with their crossbows were shouted at to sit down and they looked to Tyrion who motioned for them to sit on the lower bench where they could.

Just then came a shout as the Mountain lunged for the Hound but missed his mark. The Hound hit his brother's back on the return swing but he didn't even dent the thick plate armor.

"I think you are going to lose this bet," Tyrion commented quietly as Bronn handed him a skin of wine Pod took out of his bag.

"It's not over yet," the sellsword replied, his eyes never leaving the combatants.

Tyrion took a long drink out of the wineskin and then suddenly looked up as there came a clash of swords. The two brothers yelled and cursed at each other, their voices muffled by their helmets. They swung and parried, and the Mountain was slower than the Hound. Several times the Hound struck blows but again the thick plate armor protected Ser Gregor. Then in his anger the Hound left himself open and a blow hit the top of his helmet. Just a glancing blow, but he staggered and fell back and the Mountain's men cheered wildly as Ser Gregor advanced with more steady steps and slashed wildly at his brother. The Hound was pushed back to where the Mountain's men were sitting and as Ser Gregor swung and missed his sword cut across the top of the stone wall and slammed into his own man's side and near cut him in half. The man screamed and as the Mountain tried to pull out his sword he dragged the dying man's body into the arena. The Mountain shook him off his sword just as the Hound came back raining more blows the Mountain blocked with his sword and shield.

Now came more screams and cheers and suddenly Tyrion heard a harsh voice in his ear. "Stop this madness now!"

It was Cersei, no doubt attracted by the sounds, and thankfully the King or the Princess were not with her.

"It's too late, Cersei," Tyrion said. "I don't think anyone can stop them now."

She glared at him. "You could have! We need them both!"

"You wanted this as much as me, remember dear sister?" he said in a loud voice over the din. "You started this! You wanted the Hound on your side! You wanted them to fight. Now it is too late! Sit and watch or leave!"

She hesitated and then sat next to him, whispering fiercely in his right ear. "When this is over I will tell the King what you did. And Myrcella. She is quite fond of her dog."

But Tyrion barely heard her. In the arena the fight was reaching a climax. The Hound's shield was shattered by a blow and now his left arm hung limp at his side with the remains of the shield still attached.

"Bloody hell!" Bronn shouted. "His arm is broken!"

Tyrion could see he was right. The Hound staggered back as his brother advanced, ready for the kill. The Hound stepped too close to the dead body and slipped in the blood from the dead man at the same time Ser Gregor swung his sword. The Hound blocked it but he was off balance and went down with a clatter of armor. His sword fell from his hand as he hit the dead body.

Bronn groaned. "Ah, well. Can't expect to win all the time."

The arena went silent as the Mountain now stood over his brother with his massive sword ready to strike. He flung off his helmet and his face was covered in sweat and his hair was lank and damp. His eyes glared and looked down.

"You always were the weaker one, Sandor. Time to die." The Hound lay there and seemed resigned to his fate.

And then Tyrion knew what he had to do. He did not want the Hound to die. He stood up and shouted. "SANSA STARK!"

The Mountain hesitated and looked towards Tyrion. "What did you say?"

"SANSA STARK!' Tyrion shouted again. "That's her name! The one he loves!"

The Mountain laughed. "Then she will die as well!"

"No," growled the Hound as he ripped off his own helmet. "You will."

The distraction had given him the time he needed. He staggered to his knees, and had a mace in hand, a heavy club like weapon that the man who had died had been carrying. As he spoke the Hound forced himself up and swung the mace at his brother's head, swung it with his right arm extended as far as he could and mace crashed into the left side of Gregor Clegane's head just as his own sword came down and once more hit his brother, hitting his left shoulder and slicing through plate and chain mail and flesh to the bone. As the Hound screamed and his blood spurted his brother staggered back and the Hound ignored his own pain and wounds and swung the heavy mace once again, striking another blow. Blood and bone and brains spurted from the side of the Mountain's massive head and he fell with an enormous thud to the ground. The Hound leaped on top of his prone body and rained more blows on his face and skull as his brother's body twitched and spasmed.

"FOR MY SISTER!" the Hound yelled as he swung the mace and it made a sickening crunch. "FOR MY FATHER!" he yelled as once more he struck home, the flailing mace sending blood spraying in all directions. "FOR MEEEEE!" he yelled in an inhuman cry of pain and anguish as he killed his brother and smashed his face into nothing recognizably human. Then the Hound stood and staggered and he dropped the mace and collapsed to the ground.

The silence that had filled the arena as the spectators had watched now ended. A great cheer went up from many as at the same time a groan went up from many others and then it was pandemonium. The Mountain's men could not believe he was dead and two of them leaped the wall and went to his side. The last three still unhurt or dead leaped the wall as well and went right for Sandor Clegane and drew swords, revenge on their faces.

"BRONN!" Tyrion shouted and the sellsword leaped the wall with Pod at his side. At the same time the men at arms stood and drew on the men advancing on the Hound. They saw the threat and stopped a few feet from the Hound.

"Kill them," Tyrion ordered and the twang of ten crossbows firing at the same time filled the arena. Seven bolts struck home, three in one and two each in the other two and the looks on their faces as they were hit was pure astonishment, and then they fell withering in pain to the ground.

What Bronn did next was even more shocking. Without any orders he went to the two men standing over the Mountain's body. Without a word he cut them down and killed them before they could draw their weapons as people screamed in horror. Then Bronn advanced on the three wounded men.

Cersei was horrified. "STOP IT!" she yelled to Tyrion.

Tyrion knew why Bronn was doing it. "They will be our enemies if we don't kill them."

Cersei said nothing and Tyrion turned to Bronn and nodded. They begged for mercy but with swift swipes of his long fighting knife Bronn cut their throats and they spurted blood, twitched and died in the dirt. Then Bronn advanced on the one the Mountain had knocked unconscious, who was laying on the lower bench. As people scrambled out of the way Bronn cut his throat as well and then wiped his knife of the blood using the dead man's own breech's leg.

"Get the maesters," Tyrion shouted to one of the men at arms when it was all over and the man ran off to carry out Tyrion's order. Tyrion leaped down over the wall and came up to the Hound, who was sitting on his backside in the dirt, grasping his bleeding shoulder.

"How bad is it?" Tyrion asked him

"I will live," the Hound said through clenched teeth. "You fucking Imp! Why did you say that about her?"

"You'd be dead if I hadn't," Tyrion told him.

Then a maester was by the Hound's side. "That was quick." Tyrion said in surprise.

"Word has spread, my lord," said the maester, a young man, without too many links in his chain, one of several minor maesters at the Rock whose name Tyrion could never remember. "I believe the King knows as well, my lord."

The truth of this became clear when a cry went up from a girl's throat. "SANDOR!" shouted Myrcella as she ran up to the Hound, with Tommen, her mother, and Ser Arys and Ser Preston behind her.

"Get her out of here!" the Hound growled as the maester and Pod started to take off his armor.

Tyrion turned to Myrcella. "He will live. You best not be here, my Princess. There is too much you do not want to see."

Myrcella gave him a determined look. "I will stay with him. I am not afraid of blood."

"No, my Princess," the Hound said in pain. "Go…please."

Myrcella knelt next to him and clasped his armored hand. "I will not leave!" The Hound just sighed and nodded his head.

"Uncle?" King Tommen said and Tyrion turned to looked at him.

"Yes, my King?"

"Tell me what is going on here. Why are my men fighting each other?"

"Old feud, my King. Afraid I could not stop it."

"Mother says my father and grandfather stopped it for many years. Why couldn't you?"

"Because he didn't want to," said Cersei with a smirk on her face. "He wanted to see them fight."

Tyrion stared at her. "Careful sister. I seem to recall you were indifferent to the Clegane brother's feud."

"Indifferent, maybe," she shot back. "But not so stupid as to have a bloodbath in our own castle."

"It is done," Tyrion told her. "Let me take care of this mess and we can discuss it at length latter."

Meanwhile Tommen had turned a little sickly at the sight of so much blood. "Yes," Cersei said, seeing how her son looked now. "Take the King back to his rooms," she ordered Ser Arys and Ser Preston and they led him away. Cersei called to Myrcella. "Come, my daughter."

"No!" she said in a strong tone. "I will not leave him."

Cersei's face turned hard and Tyrion stepped in front if her before she could yell at Myrcella. "Cersei, leave it be," he said quietly, looking up at the crowd of people still looking down at the carnage on the training ground.

She got the hint and left in a huff, running after her son and his guards. Tyrion turned to Bronn. "Well, that was quite the show."

"You know why I did it."

"Yes. They would seek revenge some day, on the Hound or you or me even. And those seven were scum anyway. I am sure a few dead souls are thanking you now."

Tyrion looked up at the crowds still looking at them. "The show is over," he shouted. "Go about your business." Slowly they started to disperse.

Tyrion looked at Ser Gregor's body. His face was smashed in and his skull as well. "Shame," he said. "I wanted to send his head to Dorne."

"Send it anyway," Bronn advised. "Who else has a head so big? Soon the rumors of this fight will spread to the whole kingdom."

"Could be. Do we have anyone from Dorne in our service?"

Bronn thought for a moment. "Was a knight who was in Robert and Joffrey's service. Came with us from King's Landing. Swann, I think. He's Dornish."

"Yes, Ser Balon Swann," Tyrion said. "Find him if he is still nearby."

More men had arrived to help them as did four Silent Sisters. "Take what is left of his head and tar it," Tyrion ordered as the great bulk of the Mountain was dragged to a waiting cart outside the training arena.

Sandor Clegane's amour was off now and Tyrion saw the great rent in his left shoulder that still bled. The Hound looked pale and Myrcella was crying now. Two maesters were tending him, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Will he live?" Tyrion asked them.

"Bloody right I will live," the Hound said fiercely. One maester poured a cup of milk of the poppy and the Hound shook his head. "No. If I can feel the pain I know I am alive."

It took some time but the Hound's bleeding stopped and he was finally carted away to his sick bed with Myrcella with him the whole time. The other bodies were removed by the Silent Sisters and some men came to clean up the blood.

"I suppose I should go collect our winnings," Bronn said when only he and Pod and Tyrion were left.

"Keep it all," Tyrion told him in a dispirited tone. "I am sick to death of fighting and blood."

He walked away and knew where he wanted to go, who he wanted to talk to, but he couldn't see her, couldn't talk to her as she had taken a vow of silence for three years. Madness. It was all madness. He just wanted to go to his room and drink himself into a stupor but that was not to be. The King summoned him and he had to explain all about the Clegane brother's feud and why the Hound wanted to kill his brother. Cersei held her tongue through most of it and no doubt she knew if she was too harsh Tyrion would tell the real truth about their dealings with the Clegane brothers. After he was done Tommen agreed that they could not have been stopped and there was nothing to do about it now anyway.

The Hound lingered near death for a week. His lower left arm was broken and his left shoulder wound became corrupted and a fever set in. The maesters said he would die and the septon was called and the Hound through his fevered madness told him to go fuck himself and his seven gods. "Hell is the only place I will go," the Hound rasped and then he sank back into his fevered delirium. Myrcella stayed with him every day and read to him and helped the maesters and when his fever finally broke on the eight day and he began demanding food Tyrion knew he was out of danger.

Meanwhile news had come in from Riverrun. Jaime and Ser Kevan had laid siege to the place but were hemmed in by the rising waters of the nearby rivers and could not force an action. Then came a raven with even more dire news from the north.

"From Castle Black?" Tyrion said in surprise when the maester handed him the message. He had received one raven message from there almost a moon's turn ago, soon after Jaime and Kevan and the army had left. The letter had asked for men and arms for the Night's Watch in their fight with the wildlings and the Others. Tyrion had spent time at the Wall and knew what the men faced in the wildlings. But the Others? That was impossible? Wasn't it? He kept this tidbit of news to himself. As for the Wall, he had no men and arms to spare for them so they were on their own. The note had also said that Mormont was dead and when he read that Tyrion felt sad for he had liked the big gruff commander of the Night's Watch.

Bronn was in his solar when the new message from Castle Black arrived. Bronn was looking very pleased as he often was of late. The day after the Clegane brothers fight he had given Tyrion back his ten thousand gold and kept the remainder of the thirty thousand. "And I would be very grateful if the wife never finds out about my winnings," he had told Tyrion.

"You better make sure those book makers never find how you helped the Hound win."

"Helped him?" Bronn said in surprise. "That stuff barely slowed down the Mountain, the big brute. And if the fool had kept his helmet on he would have won. Did you see how close he came to winning? If anyone cheated you did, yelling out the Stark girl's name. What was that all about?"

"He loves her," Tyrion said quietly. "You recall what Myrcella said to him at Harrenhal in the cells?"

"Aye. So…the Hound and the little wolf girl? A perfect match."

Tyrion shook his head. "It will never happen. Even if she returned his affection. She is Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell. He is a murderous dog who fought for the Starks' enemies."

"Oh, well. Least some of his demons are at rest."

"If he lives."

And so he did live and now he was demanding to be let out of his sickbed so he could return to his duties but Tyrion ordered him to stay put until he was better and the Hound finally related when Myrcella said the same.

As Tyrion thought on that conversation with Bronn he opened the new letter from Castle Black. It was written in a wobbly script, and was short and to the point.

_The Wall has fallen. The Others are attacking in strength. Lord Commander Snow and Lord Stark are ordering a retreat to Winterfell. Warn the realm of this disaster. Prepare for the great battle to come. May the old gods and the new save us. Maester Aemon._

He read it aloud to Bronn and for once he thought he saw a hint of fear in the sellsword's face. "The Wall? Fallen? Bloody hell."

"You think it's true?" Tyrion asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Just wishful thinking on my part," Tyrion answered. "I was there, saw it, and cannot imagine how such a mass of ice and rock could fall."

"Big things fall," Bronn countered. "We saw a Mountain fall just last week."

"True," Tyrion said and then something puzzled him as he re-read the letter. "Lord Commander Snow? Who in blazes is…gods, it can't be. Jon Snow?"

"Who's that?"

"Ned's bastard."

"Oh, right. Wait. No, never heard of him."

"I am sure I have mentioned him. I met him at Winterfell and traveled to the Wall with him. Nice lad, bit of a chip on his shoulder, for being a bastard. And now he is Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?"

"Don't that lot vote for their own commander?"

"Quite so. It seems they have chosen Jon Snow. Lord Stark is there as well. This is very interesting."

"What is more interesting is what you plan on doing about all this."

Tyrion shrugged. "What can we do? We still have plenty of enemies here. We have nothing to spare for the North."

"You could make peace," Bronn suggested.

Tyrion grunted. "With Stannis? Never. He wants Tommen and Myrcella and the rest of the blond-haired green-eyed Lannister clan dead if you recall. No, we cannot make peace on those terms."

"Right," Bronn said. "So…how do we kill these Others?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Cause if you lot can't put aside your differences, before long these things will be at our doors. As for me, I don't plan on dying without taking a few with me."

Tyrion had no answer for him. Later, Tyrion delivered this news to Cersei and the King. Cersei, as expected, dismissed it out of hand as a Stark trick to try to get them to divide their forces.

"This is from the Night's Watch, not Lord Stark," Tyrion told her. "Maester Aemon would not lie about such a thing."

"_If_ he wrote the letter," Cersei said with skepticism. "We have no men to spare anyways so this conversation is pointless."

She was right and Tyrion let it go. Two days later came good news for a change. A raven came from King's Landing. It was a short note written by Ser Loras.

_The capital is ours, my King. The enemy has fled to Dragonstone. We await your return._

Great rejoicing followed this news and the next few days Tyrion spent in making plans for Tommen and the royal court to return to where they belonged. Then in the midst of this happiness a great cold descended on the land. Snow and ice came and soon the world was white and freezing. Winter had truly arrived in the Seven Kingdoms.

With the cold so harsh Tyrion advised that they should remain in Casterly Rock for the time being. To travel east to King's Landing was dangerous in such weather. In addition, the capital was still damaged from the previous fights, was low in supplies, and Stannis may even counter-attack. For once Cersei agreed with Tyrion and the move east was delayed until news came of what was happening at Riverrun.

Meanwhile Bronn had found Ser Balon Swann, who was one of the knights who had remained behind with the force guarding Lannisport. Tyrion met the knight and charged him with traveling to Dorne with the smashed in head of Gregor Clegane and letters from Tyrion asking for an alliance and a repeated offer of Myrcella as a bride for one of Prince Doran's sons. Swann agreed to carry out the task and set out with four companions by ship the next day, heading south towards warmer lands and hopefully success in his endeavor.

Tyrion was feeling proud of himself. Since he had become Hand of the King again he had secured the Tyrell alliance, he had set things in motion for an alliance with the Dornish, King's Landing had fallen, Stannis was trapped at Riverrun, and the Hound was truly his man now. After he recovered from his wounds he took up his duty as a Kingsguard man once more. One day he came to Tyrion's solar while he was busy writing letters

"Thank you, my lord," was all the Hound said.

The man looked thinner and his face and eyes looked clearer. His left arm was still in a sling. Tyrion had heard he had not touched a drop of wine since he had recovered. "You did all the hard work. Wine?" Tyrion asked and the Hound shook his head.

"No."

Tyrion nodded, and leaned back in his chair. "I suppose we should discuss our relationship now."

"I am still Kingsguard."

"Of course. But you will tell me anything Cersei does, who she meets, what she says to the King and Princess."

The Hound hesitated. Doing the things Tyrion asked of him would make him break his vows as a Kingsguard member. Finally he nodded. "As you wish."

"You will also look in on Shae from time to time. Make the old crones bring her to you so you can see she is well. She doesn't have to speak. Just make sure she is well."

"I can do that."

"Good. I have given you what you wanted. But there must be more. What shall it be, Clegane?"

"My brother is dead. That is what I wanted. Now…I don't know."

"Yes, I can see your problem. For so long you thought on only one thing. Now that it is over, what next?"

"I will live and die as a Kingsguards man."

"As you wish. What shall I do with your brother's lands? He had no children to inherit from him. His last wife is dead, is she not?"

"Yes. And I am Kingsguard. I cannot inherit, either."

"True. Do you have a cousin or an uncle or someone somewhere?"

"A cousin, my father's sister's daughter. Everything should go to her family."

"Fine, we shall have the appropriate titles drawn up and the land shall pass to her."

Tyrion returned to his letters and waited for the Hound to leave but he stood there still and Tyrion looked up. "Yes?"

"You received a letter, Bronn said. From Castle Black."

Tyrion sighed. "Yes, I did. What of it?"

"It said the Others broke through the Wall and Stark and the Watch were retreating to Winterfell."

"It did. We have no men to spare for the North, Clegane. We still have our war with Stannis. If these Others are real, Stark will have to deal with them on his own."

The Hound growled in his angry way and slammed his right fist on the table, startling Tyrion. "You stupid shit! Real? You know Ned Stark! He would not lie about such a thing!"

Tyrion got angry in return. "The letter was not from Stark but Maester Aemon!"

"Even worse! He's a maester! Why would he lie?"

"What do you want Clegane? To go charging off to the North to save her?"

That staggered him. "No…I…but you must do something!"

"What can I do? We have no men to spare!"

"Then end your fucking war before it is too late!"

With that the Hound turned and left the room, almost knocking Pod off his feet as he was trying to come in the room. And things had been going so well between me and him, Tyrion thought. What would the Hound do now? Later Tyrion heard he went into Lannisport, got roaring drunk and smashed up a pub, putting three watchmen into the maester's care before ten others managed to subdue him. Tyrion and Bronn came to the town gaol in the morning and found him in a cell by himself. It was a freezing cold day and Tyrion was not amused at having to leave his warm castle to take care of this.

"You're a disgrace, Clegane," Tyrion said to him through the bars. "This is the thanks I get for bringing your brother to you? I ought to tell Tommen to strip you of your Kingsguard duties and ship you to the Wall as punishment."

Clegane's face was a bit battered from the beating the watchmen had put on him. Tyrion was sure if the Hound hadn't been so drunk and had both arms in fine condition he would have smashed in a few more heads. The Hound laughed and it was harsh and cold. "The Wall no longer exists, you fucking Imp! Send me to the North then. I have nothing to live for here anyways. Let me die in the snow and cold."

"He's had it," said Bronn with a shake of his head. "You want _him_ guarding the King and Princess?"

"I know not," said Tyrion. "I must think on this." He turned to the gaoler. "Release him."

After the Hound was released and Tyrion paid his fines and for the damages to the pub, the three men walked toward the Rock in silence. They made a strange group as they walked through the snowy streets of Lannisport. The big Hound towered over Bronn and Bronn towered over Tyrion as he struggled to waddle next to the big men as they took long strides.

Finally Tyrion broke the silence. "I need a promise from you Clegane. This is the last time I take you out of gaol. You want to drink? You do it in the Rock. You want to fight? Do it with a blunted sword in the training ground. You want a woman? I'll pay for your whores."

Clegane remained silent and then as they neared the Lion's Mouth he stopped and Tyrion and Bronn stopped as well.

"Say nothing to the Princess of this," the Hound rasped. "I am done with drink. I will do my duty."

"Very well," Tyrion said in relief. "I…wait, what's that?"

From the road leading down from the east towards the Golden Tooth and Riverrun came a column of men on horseback. "Lord Tyrion!" shouted the leader as he hopped off his horse and went down on one knee. "I bring news and a prisoner."

"What news?" Tyrion asked first. The man rose and seemed excited.

"Stannis Baratheon is retreating to the north. He has abandoned Riverrun!"

"So Riverrun is ours?" Bronn asked.

"Ah, no…my lord," the man said. "We still lay siege to it. The Blackfish is in command there."

"Where is Lord Tully?" Tyrion asked.

"Here," said a voice and behind the first man another was getting off his horse. To Tyrion's astonishment it was Edmure Tully. Tyrion had first met him in King's Landing years ago, and mostly recently in Riverrun when Tyrion had negotiated the peace with Ned Stark. Now Edmure looked travel worn, his face haggard and his clothing stained. But he stood tall and straight and showed no fear and spoke in a clear voice. "I am the prisoner, Lord Tyrion. I also bring a message from King Stannis." He held out a rolled up sealed parchment.

"Indeed," Tyrion said as he took the scroll. His name was written in black ink just below Stannis' seal. "Come, let us get out of the cold."

"A moment, my lord," said the leader of the Lannister men. "A message from your brother." Tyrion took the letter but he did not open it yet. He gave orders to Bronn to take care of the arriving men and he and Lord Tully and the Hound entered the Rock.

"Stay with me, Clegane," Tyrion ordered and the Hound did so as they went to Tyrion's solar. Pod was inside cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

"Pod, wine and food for Lord Tully and prepare suitable chambers and clothing for him."

"Yes, my lord," Pod said and he dashed off. Tyrion sat and Edmure sat opposite him while the Hound stood by the door. Tyrion opened the letter from Stannis. He read it swiftly, his surprise growing with each line and then he looked up at Edmure. "Is he serious?"

"Always," Edmure said. "But I was not privy to his message. May I know its contents?"

"Let's skip all the introductions and get to the gist," Tyrion said and then he began to read aloud. "The Wall has fallen and the Others walk the world again. This danger can no longer be ignored. We must end our fighting or all of us will be defeated. I am offering an alliance until the danger has passed. We will defeat the Others and then our own dispute can continue if necessary. I suggest that all the men of the South rush to Moat Cailin to block the Neck and prevent the Others from coming south. As a sign of my willingness to be agreeable I will make one concession. When I sit the Iron Throne again your sister and her children may go in exile across the Narrow Sea where I will not pursue them. With the wealth of your family they will live in comfort for their remaining days. You will remain Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Make a quick decision, Lord Tyrion. Time is running out.'"

Tyrion looked at Edmure as Edmure cleared his throat. "So…so, he is offering an alliance," Edmure said. "What do you think?"

"Think?" Tyrion snorted. "I think he is quite mad if he thinks Cersei will agree to any of this. Besides, we are winning the war. And what proof do we have that the Wall has really fallen?"

The Hound growled but said nothing. Edmure glanced back at him and then took out another letter from a pocket. "I have another letter from my sister at Winterfell explaining more of it."

He handed it to Tyrion and he read this as well, and it was more of the same, but with more details. His mind whirled as he took it all in. The Wall collapsed, the Watch in tatters, retreating in the snow, Lord Stark and his son Robb missing, hundreds, maybe thousands dead, the wildlings south of the Wall, the Others hard on their heels, maybe even at Winterfell now. And now Stannis was marching north to face them, and asking for a truce.

Pod arrived at that moment with wine and food and set the tray on the table and poured the wine. Edmure took up his cup and drank and also ate some bread and meat and cheese. Tyrion brooded on the letters.

"Yes, well, I must take all this up with the King and the small council. What had Jaime to say on all this?"

Edmure's face blanched. "My lord…I…do you not know?"

Tyrion suddenly felt his heart flutter. "Know…know what?"

"Ser Jaime was badly wounded fighting my uncle during Stannis' retreat."

Tyrion gulped and gripped the edge of the table. "Is he…dead?"

"No…not when I left."

Then Tyrion remembered the other letter. He swiftly opened it. It was not in Jaime's handwriting.

_Dearest Brother, a maester at the Golden Tooth is writing this as I am quite incapable. I suffered a wound to my right arm and now I am in a sick bed with the rest of the invalids. Not to worry, it will be better in a few days and I will be back to the war. Stannis is retreating so something good has come from all this. I will see you in King's Landing when the war is over. Give my best to our sister and her family._

"It doesn't sound so bad," Tyrion said and again Edmure's face blanched. "Does it?" Tyrion asked him.

Edmure sighed. "I spoke to the maester at the Golden Tooth. He said…he said…," but Edmure could not finish.

"Tell me!" Tyrion demanded.

Edmure took a drink and then spoke, his voice quiet. "He said your brother's lower arm was full of corruption. When I left they were preparing to cut off Ser Jaime's right arm."


	26. Chapter 26 Arya

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in chapters. Unfortunately, there will be fewer ones in future as I am soon going on vacation but first must finish several important writing projects that actually pay money. Not to worry, the story will continue, but at a slower rate than in the past. Have a nice summer and enjoy this latest offering._

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 26 Arya**

"Here you go, my lady," Mikken said as he handed Arya Needle in its sheath. It had been hidden in the coal shed next to the forge on a top shelf ever since Arya had killed the two men who had come looking for Gendry.

"Thanks," Arya said as she took the sword and pulled Needle out of its sheath. It felt good to have it in her hand again, more so now that danger was looming over Winterfell.

"It's a fine blade," Jon said from her side.

"And what's that blade you are carrying?" Mikken asked Jon. "Not the one I made for you many moon's ago."

Jon took out his sword and Arya marveled at the direwolf's head carved into the pommel and how the blade looked grey and smoky. She recognized that metal, had seen it many times before.

"Is it Valyrian steel?" she asked in surprise.

"Aye it is," said Mikken as he lovingly held the sword.

"It was Lord Commander Mormont's son's," Jon explained. "Called Longclaw. But his son is in exile and the commander gave it to me. I should have left it with Robb and the rearguard but he insisted I take it to defend those I was with."

"Why does it make any difference who has it?" Arya asked.

"Because Valyrian steel is the one thing that can kill the wights and the Others," Jon explained. "That and dragonglass."

"A pity both are in short supply," said Mikken as he reached up to a high shelf again. "I suppose you'll be wanting this as well," Mikken said to Arya. He pulled down a canvas sack and took out the wolf's helmet Gendry had made for her name day gift. As Arya took it out she felt the cool steel, strong and hard, and a rush of memories of the one who made it for her came flooding back.

"That's good work, Mikken," Jon said. Arya grinned and handed it to him and Jon looked over the helmet.

"Not my work," said Mikken.

"Gendry made it for my name day," Arya explained. Just saying his name was hard.

"It's a fine present," Jon said as Arya put Needle in its sheath and strapped it around her waist. "She'll need some armor as well."

"Afraid I don't have any armor for a girl," Mikken told him as Jon handed the helmet back to Arya. "But maybe I can fix something up. Wish the lad was here to help me. So much to do now and so little time."

Arya's face had fallen when Mikken had mentioned the "lad". He was still missing, as was her father and brother and many other men. It had been three days since Jon and Lord Umber and a long column of wildlings had come looming out of the snowy mists to bring the terrible news that the Wall had fallen.

Jon sensed her sadness and put a hand on her right shoulder. "They'll be here soon."

"Aye," said Arya in a downcast voice.

"Not to worry, little sister," he said and then he ruffled her hair like he used to do and Arya felt a bit better.

Everyone said they would be there soon but there had been no sign of them. Ser Rodrik had led a party out to look for them but had to turn back after a day because of the snows and cold. Now a terrible cold had come down on Winterfell and everyone who had to venture outside was shivering and staying as close to the many fires they had going as possible. Thankfully Winterfell sat on hot underground springs so it was nice and warm inside. And the forge was always warm. But Gendry was not there, so it seem less warm and friendly as in the past to Arya.

As Arya and Jon walked quickly across the snowy courtyard he was silent, like he was much of the time since he had returned to Winterfell except when he was giving orders. Jon was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, in charge of the few men of the Night's Watch that had returned with him. But the Wall was breached, Castle Black destroyed, the Watch in tatters. No word had yet come from Eastwatch or the Shadow Tower so the fate of the rest of the Watch was unknown. Jon had sent ravens to both castles but as yet no answer had been received.

Arya had not seen Jon in well over a year, and he was changed. He was taller, and stronger looking, and he was forceful in his opinions and commanding in his tone of voice. He was only sixteen but his men seemed to respect him, none more so than the fat one called Sam, who seemed to worship Jon and was the constant companion of blind old Maester Aemon. When Sam told Arya how old the maester was she could scarcely believe it. And when Jon told her Sam had killed two Others she scarcely believed that as well. While Jon was forceful and commanding, Sam was shy and furtive, and seemed ready to shrink into his furs whenever anyone spoke to him.

"How did he become a man of the Night's Watch?" she asked Jon soon after meeting Sam that first day.

"Because his family did not want him," Jon told her and Arya asked no more about it, knowing Jon had left for much the same reason. After Jon had gone to the Wall, Arya had felt an ache inside her, missing him a great deal. But then she had her own adventures, going to King's Landing and all that had followed. Only now she realized that Jon had volunteered for the Watch because he had no place in Winterfell. Even stranger now that he was back he took a commanding role in the defense of the castle.

Bran was the Lord of Winterfell but he was too young, was a cripple, and was no war leader. Ser Rodrik was in charge of the warriors in the castle but they were few in number and if they had any chance of surviving the expected onslaught of the Others and their wights they needed the men of the Watch plus the wildlings to man the defenses as well. After Ser Rodrik and Jon had a short talk they agreed to share the command. Arya had overheard part of this talk and when Jon said he knew the wildlings' leader Mance Rayder and could work with him Ser Rodrik agreed to share command, at least until Lord Stark returned. Jon and Ser Rodrik set to preparing the castle for the expected attack by the Others and their wights.

The first thing Ser Rodrik did was send riders to all the nearby villages. Soon men, women, and children were pouring into Winterfell carrying few of their belongings and some of the food they had stored for winter. But the food they brought was not much and Ser Rodrik suspected the villagers had hidden away a lot of their food, expecting to be back in their homes soon. They did not yet appreciate the dangers, no matter how much Ser Rodrik berated them and told them they might have to spend the whole winter in the castle. Arya's mother and the steward Samson fretted over so many more mouths to feed but Jon explained that if they not take them in soon they would be dead and then rise again as wights for the Others' army.

The men of Winterfell listened closely to Jon and the wildlings describe what had happened at the Wall and prepared accordingly. Barrels of oil were dragged up from the storage vaults below the castle, piles of wooden torches were placed in strategic locations, and fire arrows were prepared as well. All the people in the winter town outside the East Gate were brought inside the castle as well and put to work helping prepare the defenses with the villagers. Once all the local people were inside the castle all the gates were triple barred, and barrels of oil were placed above them to rain down fire on any enemies.

The trouble was they had so few defenders. Less than three hundred warriors, counting all the men left behind at Winterfell, the few Night's Watch men, plus a small group of healthy wildling men and spear women. Most of the villagers were untrained in war and there were few young healthy men among them. The wildlings as well were mainly the old, sick, wounded, and children. There were hundreds of them, maybe more than a thousand, but Arya wasn't sure as there were so many of them. They were nothing but more mouths to feed for the most part, another drain on Winterfell's resources her mother complained, despite the food the wildlings had brought and that Jon had managed to rescue from Castle Black. Jon said they had lost many people on the road to Winterfell as well, the cold and sickness ravaging their ranks. Mance Rayder was still among the living, as was a very beautiful warrior woman named Val, and they were both wounded. They lay in a barracks set aside for the many wounded that had come to the castle. More sick and weak filled the Great Keep and any other places where they could find shelter.

Lord Umber was in bed as well, running a high fever, and they almost had to tie him to the bed to keep him there as he kept screaming he had to man the defenses with his men. But most of his men had been lost at the Wall or were with Lord Stark's rearguard. Maester William and the ancient Master Aemon were taking care of all of the wounded and sick, as were Arya's mother, sister Sansa, Roslin, Old Nan, Beth Cassel, Jeyne Poole, and many other women of the castle plus the wildling women, including one called Gilly who was wet nurse to two babes, one of which was Mance Rayder's according to the many rumors floating about.

That just left Arya. As they started to get everyone settled in that first day Jon and the rest had come to the castle she approached her mother in the barracks they were turning into a makeshift infirmary.

"I want Needle," she said without any preamble.

Her mother looked at her for a long moment. "No. Jon and Ser Rodrik and the other men will defend us. There is much else that needs doing. We need more blankets for the wounded."

Arya had bristled at this but said nothing and ran off and got the blankets and helped her mother with whatever else she wanted. Later that day Maester William and her mother wrote many letters to the great lords of the realm. A break in the snow came the next morning and they sent all the ravens they had left aloft. But the snow and cold soon returned. That afternoon Ser Rodrik had returned without finding Lord Stark and his missing men. When Arya heard this news she once more went to her mother. "I want Needle."

Catelyn Stark pursed her lips and again shook her head. "No. There is much else you need to do. Go to the kitchens and help Gage."

Arya said nothing and went to the kitchens and helped Hot Pie and Gage for the rest of the day and brought food to the wounded. During one of these trips she chanced on Mance Rayder, lying in a bed recovering from an arrow wound to his leg.

"Thank you, Lady Stark," he said as she handed him a bowl of soup and some bread.

"My mother is Lady Stark," Arya told the King Beyond the Wall. "I'm just Arya."

Mance nodded. "Arya it is then. Tell me, young Arya, what do the children of the North learn of me and my people?"

Arya told him without hesitation. "That you are all savages who want to invade our lands, steal from us, kill our men, and rape all the women."

The woman Val was in a nearby bed and she almost choked on her soup when she heard Arya. "What a story," she said with an edge of anger. "All lies, as well."

"Not all lies, as you well know Val," said Mance. "Some of our people have done exactly what young Arya said. But not anymore. We want to live in peace."

"There is no peace…anywhere," Arya said with a heavy heart. Then she looked at Mance intently. "At the Wall did you see a blacksmith of the Watch? Tall, with black hair, his name is…"

"Gendry, aye," said Mance. Then he whispered to her. "He has the look of a certain someone who once sat the Iron Throne."

Arya was too surprised to speak for a moment before finding her voice. "When did you ever see any king on the Iron Throne?'

"I saw a king here, in Winterfell, when Robert broke bread with your father."

"Liar."

"She has a mouth," said Val.

Mance ignored the insult. "Aye, I was truly here. I climbed the Wall and made my way to Winterfell and sat in a corner of your great hall with the other bards, playing music for the great King Robert Baratheon. You walked into the hall with the little plump blond boy Tommen on your arm."

Arya knew he was telling the truth now. She glared at him and spoke in a low fierce tone. "He does have his look. That is a secret you had best keep."

Mance laughed. "Of course. As for the lad, he did his duty if that's why you ask. He fought side by side with Lord Stark and your brother and they killed many wights. Your father even killed a few Others with his great sword Ice. But why the interest in this lad?"

"He's just my friend. We came from King's Landing together. Do you think…him, and my father and brother,…are they well?""

Now Mance's face turned grim. "Young Arya, the last I saw of them they were all on horseback and trailing behind us when a great blizzard came up. We lost sight of them and then…they were gone."

"Where?"

"No one knows," said Val from where she was listening. "Jon Snow sent men to find them but some of them disappeared as well."

Arya left them after that but later saw Mance Rayder out of bed, and going about with a stick to help him walk. She saw him talking to Jon and Ser Rodrik in the great hall but could not hear what they said.

Two of the wounded men of the North and one of the wounded of the Night's Watch died the next day as did a small wildling boy would had taken ill during the retreat. His wildling mother wailed and cried in anguish as she held his lifeless body close. They took the four dead outside and built four funeral pyres for them in the courtyard. The wildlings prayed to the old gods, some of the Northman's friends prayed to the Seven, and Jon led the Night's Watch men as they said their solemn words for their fallen brother.

Sam was there as was Maester Aemon and Arya stood near them as Jon said the words. "And now his watch is done," he said and the few remaining black brothers repeated the words. Then Jon lit the funeral pyre and the body was soon burning. As they stood there Codd and Pyke and Royce walked past, lugging more wood for the castle.

"We are short men at arms and these three big men are cutting and hauling wood," Jon said to Arya as the men passed him. "Why?"

"They are prisoners," Arya told him.

"What are their crimes?" Master Aemon asked in his old, quavering voice.

"The two ironmen attacked Moat Cailin," Arya said. "The third one, he's named Royce, he was with two men who tried to attack my mother. He did not attack but he was their friend."

Arya quickly told them the story of the three men of Stannis' army, leaving out the part about the warrant to arrest Gendry.

"No matter what they have done in the past, they are warriors," Jon said when she finished. "We need them on the battlements with weapons in their hands, not hauling and cutting wood."

"Mother said…"

Jon interrupted her. "It's time we had a talk with your mother, little sister. About you as well."

Jon walked off without waiting for a reply and Arya scurried after him. Ghost and Nymeria were nearby and tried to follow but Arya told them to stay and they did. Jon and Arya found Lady Stark where they expected to find her, in the barracks turned infirmary caring for the wounded. She was talking to Sansa about something when Jon approached.

"Lady Stark, I need a word," Jon said in a strong voice.

Catelyn Stark turned from her eldest daughter and looked at Jon Snow in the way Arya had often seen her look at him in the past, as if he was something disgusting she had found under her shoe.

"As you can see,…Lord Commander…I am quite busy." She started to turn back to Sansa but Jon persisted.

"We need to talk about those three men, the prisoners. I want them armed and on the battlements."

Catelyn Stark turned back to him. "They are prisoners."

"They are trained fighting men and we are woefully short of such, my lady," Jon replied, staring right back at her.

"I see," said Catelyn sharply. "You want me to arm prisoners who could possibly do harm to us if they try to escape?"

Jon snorted. "Lady Stark, these three men will not try to escape. Where would they go? We are surrounded by hundreds of leagues of snow and ice. And they know the Others and wights are out there. Already you arm them with axes to cut wood. I want to give them swords and spears as well. When the Others get here, three good men on a battlement or at a gate can make all the different whether the castle stands or falls."

"Four would be better," Arya said, speaking up for the first time.

Jon grinned at her. "Aye, four would be better."

Catelyn Stark bristled. "Fine. You can have the three men. But Arya is not going to stand on a wall!"

Jon took a step closer to Lady Stark and spoke in a low voice. "You still don't understand what we are dealing with. They will kill us all, men, women, and children and they do not care one bit. And once we are dead and there is no one left to burn our bodies we will rise as wights and join the horde of living dead in attacking the rest of the realm. If she is going to die let her at least have a sword in her hand and let her take some enemies with her."

Catelyn glared at him and also spoke in a low voice but Arya still heard her. "I know why the Wall fell. Lord Umber told me. If my children die I'll know who to blame."

Jon grunted and his face seemed shamed for a moment and then he spoke in his strong tone again. "Aye, it is my fault and I will take all the blame…if we live through this. And if we don't…what does it matter? Let her and anyone else who wants to fight."

Catelyn Stark hesitated and then sighed and turned to Arya. "Mikken has Needle."

Arya had barely said thank you and had dashed off to the forge, with Jon soon following her. Later as they crossed the courtyard with Nymeria and Ghost on their heels she remembered what her mother had said.

"How did you cause the Wall to fall?"

Jon stopped walking and hesitated before speaking. "It's…complicated. I blew a horn and it's…magic properties…I'm not sure if that's the right way to say it…but it caused the ice to crack and the whole thing fell. Part of it, I mean, the part next to Castle Black."

"A magic horn did it?" Arya could not even imagine such a thing as magic.

"It's a very old horn." Jon told her the story in a few swift words.

"How can you be to blame?" she asked in wonder when he finished.

"I blew the horn."

"It's stupid. Anyone could have blown that horn and the Wall would have fallen."

"No, not anyone I think. Maester Aemon said only…only someone special could have done it."

"Special? You? How are you special?"

"I'm….I don't know. It just happened."

"But…"

He grabbed her shoulders and looked at her intently. "Let it go, Arya. There are things you don't understand, things I don't understand. It happened and it is done." He must have seen the look of hurt on her face, for he let go of her and tried to apologize. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Jon, what happened? What can't you tell me?"

He seemed about to speak on it but then shook his head. "Some day maybe I will tell you." He sighed deeply. "The real truth is, Arya, I failed in my duty."

"No!" she replied fiercely.

"It's true. I am the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. The Wall fell, Castle Black was destroyed, and I am to blame."

He said it all in heavy voice and then he turned and walked away and Ghost followed him. Arya just stood there, staring at him and wondered what she could say to make it better but there was nothing to say. He was so different now, and seemed old beyond his years.

She was about to go inside where it was warmer when a voice at her side startled her.

"He blames himself still?" Sam asked.

"Aye."

"I was with him when he blew the horn. We were trying to warn of an attack by the Others. He didn't try to bring the Wall down. It just…happened." He pulled a small horn off his belt. "To think such a thing could bring down the Wall."

Arya looked at the horn in surprise. "Is that it? The magic horn?"

"Yes," Sam told her. "Maester Aemon says it is the Horn of Winter."

"The Horn of…Winter?"

"It's an old legend, about a horn that could wake up the giants. Maester Aemon said it so I believe it. I overheard them talking on the road here one night when we stopped for rest. He said no one but Jon could have blown that horn."

"It sounds like rubbish to me," Arya shot back. "Maester Aemon is old but he doesn't know everything."

"He knows you and Jon and your other brothers and sister are wargs."

That shocked Arya. "How do you know all that?"

"Jon is my friend. He told me all about it, about Ghost, and what happens sometimes when he is sleeping. And sometime when he is not. He told me about when you're brother Robb died and how you and Thoros saved him."

"It's all true. I heard Thoros saved Mance Rayder as well."

"Yes. But he couldn't save Beric Dondarrion again. And he couldn't save so many more. No one could."

Arya had overheard many people talking on the battles at the Wall the last few days. It sounds like it had been a horrible experience.

"Thoros was with my father?"

"The last I saw."

Arya shivered. "Sam, it's very cold out here. Let's go to the kitchens."

"I was just on my way there to fetch Maester Aemon's supper."

It was near the supper hour, and the sky was getting gloomy as night approached. They made their way to the kitchens and it was busy as the workers prepared the evening meal. With so many people in the castle many of the village women and girls had been put to work here, preparing food. Gage was in charge and stood like a general with his army shouting commands and giving orders. Hot Pie was taking out some loaves of bread from the ovens.

"He's here for Maester Aemon's supper," Arya told Hot Pie.

"Why can't he eat in the great hall?" Hot Pie asked Sam as he put the piping hot loaves of bread on a table.

"He's a very old man," Sam explained. "And it tires him to walk far and often."

Hot Pie shrugged. "Okay. There's the trays. Take a half loaf of bread. There's some mutton just off the spit. Slice some of that. And put some of that steamed barley over there in a bowl. There's wine and ale over there as well."

"Thanks," Sam said and he set to work and was soon gone with a tray of food. Arya stayed and helped Hot Pie with the bread after she put her wolf's head helmet on a shelf and placed Needle there as well. She helped the women in the great hall laying out dishes, bowls and plates and cutlery for the coming supper meal. Sansa came along and helped her as well and told her their mother and Roslin were still in the infirmary. As they worked Sansa sidled up to Arya and whispered to her.

"Mother is quite mad at Jon."

"She's always mad at Jon."

"Is it true he caused the Wall to fall?"

Arya glared at her sister. "Where did you hear that?"

"Everyone is whispering about it."

"Gods."

"Well, is it true?"

Arya shook her head. "No. It's all a pack of lies."

Sansa laughed. "Now you're lying."

"Why do you hate Jon? He's our brother!"

Sansa was taken aback by this accusation. "I don't hate him. He…he's not our brother though, not like Robb and Bran and Rickon. Not really."

"He is! Can't you see he's trying to help us? To save us?"

"I know he is!"

"You sure don't sound like it."

Now it was Sansa's turn to glare. "Arya, I'm not a stupid girl like you think I am. I know people are going to die here. I know Jon is doing everything he can to help us."

"Then stop talking rot about him and tell Mother that!"

"I have!" Sansa shot back. "She's just…she still hates him, because of who he is. She can't forget."

Arya put down some cutlery she was carrying on a table. "She'll never forgive him but it's not his fault he is what he is."

"No, it's not," Sansa agreed. Then she grinned. "He looks better, taller. Jeyne can't stop staring at him and talking about him."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Gods. First Robb and now Jon? She needs to get married."

Sansa laughed and then she quickly sat on a bench and dragged Arya down with her. Sansa leaned in close and whispered. "I was taking care of the wounded and I heard that wildling women Val and some other women talking about Jon. They say he fell in love with a wildling woman!"

"What? No, that's impossible!" Arya said a bit too loudly.

"Why not?"

"Because men of the Watch can't have a woman. Ever."

"Not ever?"

"No. Hot Pie said those men he came with complained the whole time about it when they were on the road. So did those men I came with from King's Landing."

Sansa shrugged. "Maybe Jon did fall in love anyway."

"I don't believe it."

"I'm just telling you what I heard. They said her name was…was…"

"Ygritte," said a voice behind them and it was Jon, standing there with a large basket of bread in his hands.

Sansa gasped and Arya did as well. Suddenly her face was hot and red. "Jon!…We're just talking…sorry."

Sansa was blushing as well. "Sorry," she mumbled too.

"So now you know my secret," Jon said with a grim cast to his face. "Yes, sisters. It is true. I loved a woman."

Sansa was suddenly all eager for more gossip. "Where is she? Are you going to marry her?"

Jon's face blanched. "I guess you did not hear all the gossip. She's…she's dead, Sansa. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to bring this bread to the men on duty."

Sansa gasped and Arya could only stared at him in shock at hearing this news. But just as Jon finished speaking these words a horn blew, from outside. Everyone in the great hall stopped and listened.

"One call for friends returning," Jon said.

"It's Father and Robb!" Sansa gasped in excitement, getting over her embarrassment and shock at being overheard gossiping about Jon in a mere moment.

"And Gendry!" said Arya as her heart skipped a beat. She stood, ready to run to the gates, but Jon put a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," he said, his eyes intent, his head cocked as if he was listening for something.

Then came a second blast of the horn. "Two for wildlings," Jon said and his face grew grim and he put the basket of bread on the table.

"But…the wildlings are on our side now, aren't they?" Arya asked.

"Aye," said Jon and then he closed his eyes just as a third blast came. Jon opened his eyes and spoke. "Others."

"Gods, no," Sansa said in an anguished cry.

But Jon was calm and had nerves of steel. "Girls, you know your duty. Now, stay calm and off you go. Sansa, take this bread to the North Gate guards and go help your mother in the infirmary. Can you do that?"

Sansa stood and nodded and picked up the basket and was soon gone.

"Arya, come with me," Jon said and instead of going to the battlements to Arya's surprise he went into the kitchens and found Gage.

"There is no time for a proper sit down supper," he said to the cook "Have workers bring food to the men on the walls and at the gates."

"Aye," Gage said swiftly and he began shouting more orders.

"Arya, have a quick bite to eat and then run to each gate and make sure all is prepared. Then I want you to join me on the battlements on the north wall over the North Gate."

"There's no time to eat," she answered in a rush.

"There is," Jon said. "Eat now, little sister. There may not be time later." He ruffled her hair and she felt good. Arya said 'aye' and then Jon was gone.

Hot Pie looked at her with fear in his eyes. "Are we under attack?"

"Yes," she told him. "I need to eat something quick. Get me something, please." Hot Pie quickly sliced some bread and grabbed some mutton and cheese and put it on the bread and gave it to Arya. She quickly wolfed it down, drank some water, and then grabbed Needle and her helmet and strapped on her sword. She had no place to hook her helmet to her belt and did not want to wear it yet so she carried it under her right arm.

Arya ran outside as fast as she could and the whole courtyard by the great hall was in chaos, with people running everywhere, men at arms moving to the walls, kitchen workers carrying baskets of food, and many people heading indoors, to get out of the cold and out of harms way. Some old women led a large group of children into the Great Keep, to keep safe during an attack.

Nymeria, who had been waiting outside the great hall for her, was at her side as always. At each gate she talked to the men in charge and all was well, so far. At the Hunter's Gate near the godswood's entrance she saw Royce and the two ironmen Codd and Pyke with some other men. They were now wearing chain mail and holding shields and spears, with short swords at their sides. When Royce saw her, his face blanched for a moment.

"I mean you no harm," Arya said to him.

"This little one do harm to him?" said Codd with a hearty laugh.

But Pyke wasn't laughing. "She's killed men, the way I hear it," he said. "She's a wild one, she is." He gave a knowing look to Nymeria growling at Arya's side. "Best keep on her good side, Royce."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," Royce said in his solemn way.

Arya had no time for this. "Listen. My brother said to make sure all is well here. Is it? Is the gate barred? Is the drawbridge up? Is the oil boiling? Are the archers ready with fire arrows?"

"Aye," said Pyke. "Few as we are we are ready. No need to school us in the art of war, little one. We welcome any of these walking myths to try to break down this gate."

"You can bloody well welcome them," said Codd as he adjusted his sword belt. "I'd sooner never lay eyes on them."

"Now who's the craven?" Pyke shot back and Arya left them as they argued back and forth. As she was walking away Royce ran up to her and called her name.

"Lady Stark…if I am to die tonight I must know why you killed those two I was with," he said.

Arya turned on him and the anger was on her all of a sudden and she fought to push it down. "You wanted to bring my friend to the King. And his red witch," she growled. "They would have harmed him in some way. That's why."

"It was not my choice. Stannis is our rightful King."

Arya bristled and Nymeria growled. "Go back to your post before I tell my brother and Ser Rodrik to lock you in a cell."

"As you command, my lady," Royce said with a dip of his head and he returned to the group of men at the Hunters Gate.

As Arya and Nymeria crossed the courtyard and walked under the wooden walkway between the armory and the Great Keep she saw Rickon and the two Frey boys arguing with someone by the armory door.

"We can fight, too!" said Big Walder.

"Give us swords!" Little Walder shouted.

"Bugger off!" yelled the man, and Arya recognized him as Karl, the married apprentice armorer.

"I am a lord of Winterfell!" Rickon shouted next. "I demand a sword."

Arya smacked her little brother on the back of the head and gave the two Walders a smack as well.

"Owww!" they all said and Rickon turned on her. "What you do that for?"

"Cause you three little idiots are getting in Karl's way. He's got work to do and you lot are supposed to be in the great hall helping with the food and keeping an eye on Bran. That's where Mother said for you to go during an attack!"

"That's woman's work," Big Walder retorted. "We want to fight!"

"Yeah!" said Rickon and Arya smacked him again and he said 'Owww' again.

"Off to the great hall!" she shouted once more.

"You've got a sword and you're a girl!" Little Walder shouted at her. "Why can't we have a sword?"

"Cause you'll shit your britches the first sight of blood," boomed a loud voice and it was Mikken with Tim at his side. "Now you three piss off to the great hall like Arya says or I'll be kicking you all the way there with my boot next!"

They cowed in the face of his anger and went off grumbling to the great hall.

"Thanks," Arya said to him.

"Aye, no need," Mikken answered. "Come now, Tim, help me on with my armor."

"Are you going to fight?" Arya asked.

"Aye, we are, Karl and me," said Mikken. "Our post is at the East Gate with big Hodor and a bunch of them wildling women. Tough lot they are. There will be time for mending swords and such when the fight is done. Oh, that reminds me. I think I might have some armor for you as well."

He stepped inside the armory door and she followed him and Karl and Tim. Arya always liked the armory. It was usually filled with spears and pikes, swords and daggers, maces and spiked morning stars. There were helmets and suits of chain mail and studded leather. Much of it was gone now, with the men sent North or now manning the walls. The armor all looked too big for Arya and she said so.

"Not this," said Mikken as he reached into a wooden crate and took out a small suit of chain mail. It was old looking and had spots of rust on it but it looked like it would fit her well. "I made this for Robb when he was your age for his name day. Come Karl, let's get it on her."

Arya took off Needle and let them pull the chain mail shirt over her head. It felt heavy and was a bit long but it fit well and reached down to just above her knees. They helped her strap on Needle again and then Arya put on her wolf helmet. "How do I look?"

"I'd run away if I saw you," jested Tim.

"Aye," said Mikken. "Can you see out that helmet?"

"Well enough," Arya said as she took it off again.

"Right, that's sorted," said Mikken. "You best get where you belong, my lady."

"Stay safe," Arya said, a bit of a nervous tremble to her voice.

Mikken put a meaty hand on her small shoulder. "Just remember what you're fighting for. Home and family. That'll see you through."

"Aye," Arya said and she felt much better. She thanked them and ran off and headed for the stairs leading up to the walls on the north side, Nymeria following her wherever she went. After a long climb she emerged from shadows on the outer north walls highest point, stepping into the last of the setting sun's light as it fought to get through the gloomy clouds.

She found Sam up there and soon saw Jon and Mance Rayder and Ser Rodrik as well.

"They are here," Sam said in fear as Arya stood by his side and she didn't need to ask who.

Three days they had to prepare and it was well they did. By the time Arya got to the top of the highest outer wall, eighty feet above the North Gate, the Others and their wight army had emerged forth from the mist and snowy whiteness to come face to face with Winterfell. Arya trembled as she took in the sight of so many enemies coming to her home. There had to be thousands of them, in ragged ranks, spread across the open space between the stands of forest on either side of the Kingsroad. There was no semblance of order to their ranks at all. From this distance it was easy to mistake the wights as normal men, carrying weapons of war in their hands as they walked through the snow toward Winterfell in the late afternoon's dying light. But there was no mistaking the Others. They were taller and thinner, a pale ghostly color, and they all rode horses which seemed more dead than alive.

"Is that…an Other?" Arya asked as she pointed. She asked more to control her fear by talking. She knew what they were from the stories she had heard.

"Yes," Sam said and she noticed he gripped a dragonglass dagger tight in his right hand. Arya had heard the story of how Sam had used the dagger to kill two Others.

"There's too many," said one of the men nearby in fear.

"They'll never get over these walls," said another.

"They got past _the_ Wall, didn't they?" said the first. "And it's seven hundred feet high!"

"Shut that talk!" growled Ser Rodrik as he walked past. "Notch your bows and get ready to set these demons afire!"

Many of the men had bows and arrows and began to dip the arrows in nearby fires where they caught flame. In moments two dozen men had flaming arrows notched and Ser Rodrik gave the command to fire.

The flight of arrows went in a high arc and landed among the enemy. But only a few were hit and only two really caught fire and writhed and let out inhuman screams as they twisted and turned in the snow. Even from this distance Arya's ears hurt to hear them die…again.

"Let them get closer next time," Jon said as he stood near Arya. "We can't let them get to the base and climb the wall.

Then Arya noticed something odd. "How will they climb the wall?" she asked aloud.

Jon had heard her and he stopped and stared out at the horde and then he smiled. "They have no ladders, no ropes or grappling hooks, no siege engines."

"Aye, not a one," Ser Rodrik said with a hearty grin.

"They are heading for the town," said Mance Rayder from Jon's side. He was right. A large body of wights and Others was moving to the east toward the winter town.

"Not the town," Jon said. "The East Gate. The fight will be for the gates. They can't get over the walls. They must go through them. Reinforce the gates." Men ran off to carry out his orders.

Mance spotted Arya standing there. "Little girl, best go join your mother and the other ladies caring for the wounded."

That made Arya mad. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mance grunted. "As you wish. You are too small to fire a bow any distance. You'd best serve down by the gates guarding one of them."

"No," Jon said from where he had overheard them. "I have an even better task for Arya. I need a runner, someone who knows the castle better than anyone. You will have to carry messages for the commanders."

Arya grinned. "I can do that."

"Good," her big brother said. "Then…wait…what's that?"

Everyone looked down and Arya saw what Jon was looking at. A cloud of mist was rising from the ground all around the part of the outer castle wall that they could see. It moved slowly towards the walls and began to rise up until it was almost near where they were. Through this murky haze they could not see anything at all.

"They could be anywhere," Ser Rodrik said in frustration.

"What can we do?" Sam asked.

Mance Rayder had the answer. "Drop some oil over the wall and set it on fire."

Ser Rodrik gave the orders and two men lifted a small keg of oil and threw it over the wall. After a moment they heard it cracking open. Two men took lit torches and threw them down. They soon saw a flare of light and then a larger pool of light reflecting through the mist.

"I can't see anything," Jon said.

Arya was leaning over the wall, looking down near the North Gate were the pool of oil was burning. She couldn't see anything either…and then she saw a shadow and heard a sound she often heard at the forge, the sound of metal being bent and shaped, but this was different, a screeching sound as if the metal was being torn in two.

Suddenly they heard a shout from below. "The portcullis is gone!" Then came the sound of steel on steel, shouts, cries, curses, and screams. "They've breached the gate!" came another shout.

Then came a flash and flare of more flame from the North Gate and Arya knew that was oil being poured into murder holes above the archway on the attackers. Suddenly several forms came tumbling through the gate and fell into the moat and landed on the ice below. These were men, three living men, trying to escape the onslaught. Behind them fell two figures on fire, wights by their screams. Three more burning wights came tumbling in after them, all five landing on the ice covered moat below.

"The moat! It's all ice!" Arya shouted to Jon.

"I know!" he replied in a hurry. "There is naught we can do about it. Fire arrows!" he shouted to the men nearby. The archers leaned over the wall looking down at the moat but no more wights came through. The living men on the ice were stabbing and hacking at the five burning wights but they did not move and soon the men stopped. They looked up and shouted to those high above.

"THE GATE IS SMASHED!" one man shouted.

"GET OUT OF THERE!" Jon yelled back. Already men on the inner wall gate house were lowering ropes to the men so they could climb up.

"I heard metal tearing," Arya said to Jon and Ser Rodrik.

"It's the cold," Mance Rayder said. "The Others must have shattered the metal portcullis."

"If that is so, we cannot hold the outer wall gates," Ser Rodrik said. "And the moat is all ice."

"Fire will melt the ice," Arya said to them.

"Not for long in this cold," Mance Rayder told her. "The Others bring their own special cold with them, young Arya."

"We must warn the other gates," Jon said. "Arya run to the East Gate. Go!"

Arya pulled on her wolf helmet and dashed off as fast as she could with Nymeria at her heels. She ran past the tower on the northeast corner and as she ran the Broken Tower where Bran had fallen so long ago loomed to her right. She ran on and as she ran she realized there were no men here defending this part of the wall. She looked down and the mist seemed to be clearing. Below she could make out the stones that marked the graves of those buried in the lichyard of Winterfell. The graves of hundreds of common people of Winterfell who had died over the many long years were here. As she looked she saw movement and stopped running.

Through the mist she could make out forms, moving about the lichyard. They were digging.

"Gods, no!" Arya wailed as she suddenly knew what they were doing. Even as this thought entered her head she saw something crawl out of a grave, something hideous and malformed, more skeleton than flesh, with ragged wisps of clothing clinging to the bones. It rose up out of the grave and a wight thrust a spiked club into its bony hand. The newly arisen dead walked out of the lichyard towards the East Gate, as if it already knew its orders.

Arya stifled a scream that was building in her throat and ran again, her legs feeling weak as she tried to control her fears. Soon she was at the East Gate outer wall but there were no men here either. She ran into a small turret and found the stairs that went down inside the outer wall and down she and Nymeria went until they reached the fighting room that was above the East Gate. Here she found Mikken and Karl and Hodor and three wildling women. They were all at the arrow slits and were firing flaming arrows outside and shouting and cursing. In the center of the room was a fire with a large kettle of boiling oil on it ready to be tipped over the murder holes above the gate tunnel.

"MIKKEN!" Arya shouted and the big blacksmith turned from the window.

"Lady Arya! Gods, what are you doing here?"

"They've breached the outer North Gate," she quickly explained.

"How?" Karl asked as he notched another flaming arrow.

"They destroyed the metal portcullis," Arya told them and then Hodor shouted.

"HODOR! HODOR! HODOR!" he yelled and he pointed out the arrow slit. Arya ran up as all the men and women looked as well and there she saw up close her first Other.

A horde of wights was in the winter town and now at the gate, some on fire from the arrows, but many more unharmed. A tall, pale Other on horse back came through their ragged ranks and dismounted. With icy calm the Other walked up to the gate below them. Mikken and Karl fired flaming arrows at it but they clattered off its icy skin and fell to the snowy ground. Then the Other reached the portcullis and touched it with its hand. Arya craned her neck to see and what she saw shattered all hopes of defending the castle's outer wall. The steel began to turn blue and then pale white and then it shattered with a terrible rending, screeching sound.

"The portcullis is gone!" Arya said in despair. Then came a pounding sound below and in a few moments the big oaken doors cracked and swung in. Arya and the rest dashed over to the murders holes and looked down to see many wights enter the tunnel and jam up against the inner portcullis and doors.

"NOW!" Mikken shouted and Hodor with his massive strength tipped the large iron kettle of boiling oil into the murder holes. The oil poured down and then Mikken grabbed a nearby torch.

"Stand back!" he shouted and Arya did so as Mikken dropped the torch into one of the holes. A _whoosh_ of flame came up through the holes and then came the most inhuman noise Arya had ever heard, a screeching, screaming sound unlike anything in the world. Nymeria howled and Arya clutched her to keep her still.

"That'll fix that lot," said Mikken with satisfaction.

"Not for long," said a wildling woman in despair.

They waited and the oil burned and the screams died out. Arya looked outside the arrow slits and in the growing darkness she could make out hundreds more wights and at least a dozen Others just standing there waiting. And then she saw something that made her gasp.

Standing in the ranks of the wights she was sure she saw two men she knew, two men who were mostly flesh, two men who had died recently. Maron and Jason, the two men of Stannis' army she had killed, now standing in the ragged wight ranks, Maron with a sword in hand and Jason with a mace. They had blue eyes and a lifeless look but they were there nevertheless. For a mad moment Arya wondered if they would remember who had killed them. Now she or someone else would have to kill them again.

"Mikken, we have to leave here," Arya said to him.

"She's right," said one of the women. "We'll get trapped in here."

"It's our post," Karl said. "Ser Rodrik and Lord Snow said…"

"Lord Snow is not here," Arya told him. "When that oil burns more will come. They will get in the stairs and come up here and we have no way to kill those Others or the wights. Is there more oil?"

Hodor shook his head. "Hodor."

"She's right, we must go," said Mikken. "To the inner wall. Up and across the Battlements Gate bridge."

They climbed up the stairs and came out on the upper part of the outer wall. It was now truly night and all was dark. They moved south along the wall and told what men they saw that the North and East Gates were breached on the outer wall. Mikken told the men to follow him and soon they reached the Battlements Gate near the Great Keep. It was a gate only in the inner wall, with a wooden bridge to connect it to the outer wall. They all passed through and then Mikken and Hodor grabbed a nearby barrel of oil, cracked it open and poured it over the wooden bridge. In the cold the oil moved slowly but soon a sizable part was soaked in oil. As they worked Arya saw wights coming along the outer wall from the direction of the East Gate. Mikken was about to light the bridge on fire but Arya grabbed his arm.

"Wait!"

"For what?"

"Them!" she said and she pointed with Needle towards the coming wights. Soon they were on the bridge and coming across and when the reached the midway point Arya knew it was time.

"NOW!" and Mikken lit the bridge on fire. The oil went up with a _whoosh_ and wights caught fire and screamed and fell of the bridge in flaming streams of fire to the icy moat below. Then bridge soon collapsed in flames down to the ice below as well.

Hodor peered over the edge and looked down. "Hodor?"

"All gone," Arya said to him.

"Not all," Karl told her and Arya looked up and across at the wights now swarming over the outer wall.

"We need to get down to the inner East Gate," Mikken told them and they started to move, down stairs, along passageways, until finally they were at the lowest level. Mikken and his men and women ran back to the East Gate while Arya and Nymeria headed out through the courtyard towards the Hunter's Gate. She now knew Jon was right. The only way any wights and Others would get into Winterfell was by the gates. They had no ladders, no ropes and hooks like the ironmen had, no siege engines. All they had were numbers and the cold to help them. It might just be enough.

As she ran she heard someone scream her name. "Arya!"

It was Sansa coming from the barracks turned into the infirmary. "What's happening?" she asked in fear.

Arya did not want to panic her but knew she had to tell it true. "We are losing the outer wall," she said and even in the dim light she could see the fear on Sansa's face. Arya made a quick decision.

"Come with me," she said and she dragged Sansa with her to the nearby armory. Inside Arya soon found what she was looking for. She grabbed a couple of short swords, and handed them to Sansa. Then she found some spears and clutched two in her hands. They soon made their way to the infirmary. Inside the two Walder boys and Rickon were there, with Bran, sitting beside him on a bed. Summer and Shaggy Dog sat on the floor by Bran's bed.

"What are they doing here?" she asked Sansa.

"Mother wanted Bran and Rickon close to her."

Arya saw her mother was helping bandage a soldier's arm. Maester Aemon was nearby as well and so were many other women of the castle.

"Put on the sword," she told Sansa and as Sansa strapped the sword belt around her waist Arya saw Jeyne Poole and ran to her and thrust the other sword at her. "Put it on," she said and Jeyne looked at the sword with fear in her eyes. "I've taught you how to use it!" Arya almost screamed at her. "Now put it on!"

With trembling hands Jeyne took it. Arya realized she must have looked frightful with the wolf's head helmet on and her screaming did not help but she did not care. She saw the woman Val getting out of bed. "Little one, what is the news?"

"Bad. They've breached the outer East and North Gates," Arya said. She heard a gasp behind her and it was her mother.

"How bad is it?" Catelyn Stark asked her.

"You need to be ready to defend yourselves in here," Arya said and now she took off the helmet to talk to her mother. Val grabbed her own sword from the bed post and then she took one of the spears Arya had and steadied herself with it and hobbled to the doorway.

"I'll take that other spear," said a booming voice and the Greatjon staggered to her and almost crashed into Arya but steadied himself. His right arm was still in a sling and his eyes were feverish but he held out a strong left arm and Arya thrust the second spread into his hand.

"Lord Umber," her mother said. "Go back to bed."

"I will die on my feet, thank you very much Lady Catelyn," he said and he walked to where Val was by the door.

By now everyone saw what was going on and the two Walders and Rickon came up to her.

"We want to fight, too!" Rickon shouted.

"You'll do no such thing!" said Lady Stark in anger and fear.

"I'm not giving you any weapons," Arya told them. "But you can get torches and some oil. If the wights get in here you have to set them on fire. It's the only way to kill them."

The three little boys yelled in excitement and ran off to fetch the things they needed before Catelyn Stark could protest.

Now Arya's mother was looking at her intently. "Arya," she whispered as she bent close. "Will the castle fall?"

"No, Mother," she said quickly. "They cannot climb the walls. But the gates must be protected. I have to go."

Her mother almost had tears in her eyes as she kissed Arya on the forehead and hugged her for a brief second and then Arya put on her helmet and walked to the door.

Sansa was standing there with Val and Lord Umber, looking very scared. "You cannot kill them with those swords," Val was telling Sansa and Jeyne. "But cut off their arms and legs and they will be less of a danger. It will give others time to set them on fire."

Sansa nodded and sniffed. "Yes. I…will do my best." Jeyne was too scared to talk at all.

"For Winterfell," Arya told her sister. "For us."

Sansa smiled in a wan way. "For Winterfell. For us," she repeated and then Arya was out the door.

Nymeria was looking towards the kennels near the Hunter's Gate and Arya saw Ghost there and figured Jon must be nearby. She ran with Nymeria beside her and soon saw Jon and the ironmen and Royce and Ser Rodrik and Mance Rayder and Sam and many more men of the defense.

"What's happening?" she asked Jon.

"They have taken all the outer gates except this one. The East and North and South inner gates are holding for now. But the men here saw a large party of wights and Others coming through the Wolfswood to the Hunter's Gate."

As if to emphasize this Arya heard a booming sound on the other side of the heavy oak doors. "That would be the outer gate coming down," said Mance Rayder.

"They can't get in the inner gates can they?" Arya asked.

"Not yet," Ser Rodrik told her.

Jon looked to Arya. "Go to the other gates and make sure all is well then report back to me here."

Arya did not even reply. She and Nymeria ran past the kennels and past the infirmary under the walkway over the courtyard, past the armory and then down the narrow tunnel way towards the North Gate, and then past the godswood gate to the North Gate. She was out of breath as she talked to the men here and all seemed well. They said that the wights were not even in the moat and the broken outer gate seemed unoccupied

After a brief rest Arya and Nymeria started back the way they had come. As she was going past the godswood's gate she heard a creaking sound, as if the gate was opening. Arya shivered in the cold despite an open fire in a nearby iron brazier and she pulled Needle from its sheath. By her side Nymeria growled as a shadowy figure came out of the godswood gate.

"Who are you?" Arya asked but the figure did not speak, only came closer. Arya heard a tinkling sound, a familiar sound, one she had heard almost every day of her life. The figure moved closer and now she could see others behind it.

Arya felt her skin crawl and she shivered and it was not from the cold. The first figure came into the light from the nearby fire. Arya now knew what the tinkling sound was and she screamed.

"NO! You can't be one of them!" she shouted at Maester Luwin's animated corpse. "Go back! Go back to your grave! Please!"

But the wight that was Maester Luwin walked toward her, the maester's chain they had buried him with tinkling as the links rubbed against each other. He had a dagger in his right hand and as he reached Arya she screamed again, and Nymeria leaped at the wight maester and knocked it to the ground.

Arya's screams had brought men with torches from the North Gate. They fell on the wights behind Maester Luwin but there were too many of them. Men died and wights burned but more came from the godswood and they were overwhelmed. Nymeria had ripped the right arm off the corpse of Maester Luwin and had him by the other arm but now Arya willed her to let go and they ran back with only two men who had survived from the North Gate party. They ran back into the courtyard in front of the infirmary and Arya yelled as loud as she could.

"THEY'RE COMING THROUGH THE GODSWOOD!"

More people heard her and came running, people with torches and weapons in their hands and she saw Hot Pie and Gage and the other kitchen workers with cleavers and knives and torches in hand. The fight was bloody and people fell under the onslaught of wights as wights burned and screamed and died. Arya stabbed and stabbed but it was like sinking her sword Needle into a bag of sand for it did no good. She picked up a short sword from a fallen wight and that was better. She slashed at them, slicing an arm off of one. And then something hit her on the helmet from behind and it sounded as if all the world was filled with ringing bells and she fell to the ground. A wight screamed a hideous battle cry and stood over her with a raised spiked club and she looked up and knew that face, knew that blond hair and scraggly mustache. It was Maron and he was getting his revenge.

Then a spear thrust through his wight body and he was flung back. A pair of strong hands picked her up and there was Royce, helping her.

"Up you go, my lady," he said. "Come on now. More killing to do yet."

The men of the Hunter's Gate were there, and Codd and Pyke were yelling their ironman battle cries and Ser Rodrik was slugging it out with a big wight as well. Mance Rayder was there now too and so were Val and Lord Umber coming from the nearby infirmary. Jon most of all was in the thick of the fight, and Longclaw slew foes left and right, their bodies sizzling with fire as he struck home with his special sword. Sam fought as well and seemed to find courage somewhere as he slashed at the enemy with his sword. Nymeria and Ghost and Shaggy Dog and Summer were there and knew who their enemies were as they ripped off legs and arms and wights fell to be burned by those with torches.

The battle raged across the central courtyard, and people died, and wights died and then there was Maester Luwin's wight corpse in front of Arya again, coming at her with his one good arm holding a dagger.

"Please, no," Arya pleaded as she backed up to the infirmary door and then as she wept she slashed at the wight that was once her beloved teacher and took off its other arm.

"It can't be," said a voice full of fear beside her. Sansa stood there with a torch in one hand and her sword in the other with Jeyne beside her.

"Burn him!" Arya shouted and Sansa hesitated and then with tears in her eyes she thrust the torch into the wight maester and it screamed and burned and flopped to the ground and rolled in the snow as it burned.

And then Jeyne screamed and it was not from fear.

A wight had thrown a spear and Jeyne Poole was skewered thought her upper body with it. As blood spurted out her chest her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the snow without another sound as Sansa cried out her name.

But they had no time to mourn as more wights were coming from everywhere it seemed. And then came an Other on its horse and Jon yelled what Arya now knew.

"They've breached a gate somewhere!"

With that he slashed his way through the wights toward the Other with Lord Umber and Ser Rodrik at his side and that was the last Arya saw of them, for she and Sansa were pushed back to the door by the press of wights and they stood in the door of the infirmary as wights crowded towards them. And there were Maron and Jason in the front ranks and their blue eyes gleamed in the light of the nearby fires as they walked toward her. Arya slammed the door shut and pressed her body against it as Sansa flung a long piece of wood down into the iron notches on either side and barred the door.

Arya looked at the infirmary as the sounds of battle continued outside. Many wounded and dying were still in bed, oblivious of what was going on around them. The room was long and stoutly built and had heavily barred shutters for windows, now all closed tight. Everyone was staring at her and Sansa. Then came a pounding on the door and Arya and Sansa stepped back from it.

"Prepare yourselves," Arya said to the people in the room. Rickon and the Walder boys were already by the big hearth fire at the far end of the room, lighting torches. They carried them to Arya and her mother and Rickon gave one to Bran as well even though he was sitting on the bed.

Maester Aemon stood up from a bed he was sitting on. "I will die on my feet," he said. "Please give me a weapon."

"A torch would be better," Arya said and Rickon gave the aged maester a torch.

"Careful, it's hot," Rickon told him and for some reason that made Arya smile inside her wolf helmet.

"A little heat will warm these old bones," said the maester. "Young Arya, what is our plan?"

"Kill all our enemies," she said and she saw her mother smile, a smile mixed with fear.

"Yes, my daughter. Kill our enemies." She looked to Bran. "My lord, I must go and fight."

"Aye, mother," was all Bran said and Arya could hear the fear in his voice and then Catelyn Stark bent and kissed his brow and stood and walked to a place behind her girls. Roslin stifled a cry and stood as well, one hand on her belly as if defending her unborn baby, and she was given a torch and she stood by the beds of the wounded ready to defend them. Rickon and the Walder boys stood with torches nearby her. Little Walder had gotten a short sword from somewhere, no doubt from one of the wounded.

The pounding on the door grew and Arya and Sansa stood by it with torches and swords in hand. Syrio's words came flooding back to Arya in that moment._ Fear cuts deeper than swords. Not today._ Arya took a deep breath, calmed herself, and looked to her sister. "I love you."

Sansa gasped. "I love you, too."

And then the door broke and at the same moment Arya thought she heard a horn blowing. Then there was no time to think as Maron's blue eyed wight was the first through the door and Arya screamed her battle cry "_WINTERFELL!"_ and her sister and brothers and mother and the rest joined her in her cry and they seemed to find strength in it. She slashed at his arm and cut off the rotting flesh in one swipe and his weapon fell to the floor. Jason was beside him and Sansa thrust her torch in his face and the wight screamed and fell to the floor on fire. The wight Maron grasped Arya's left leg with his good arm, but Catelyn Stark yelled at him and thrust her torch into his face and the wight screamed and let go of Arya.

Two more tried to enter and got more of the same and the bodies began to stench and smoke filled the air. As this was going on Arya was dimly aware of battle happening outside the door, and she saw a fleeting glimpse of Jon as he was fighting towards them. And then the wights were all down or run away and he was there, with Longclaw in hand and his face was full of battle madness and a joy that Arya could not understand.

"They're back!" he yelled and then he turned to rejoin the fight without explaining what he meant. Arya and Sansa leaped over the burning bodies and ran outside after him, oblivious to the shouts of their mother.

She saw many horses, men on horses, not Others, pounding their way up from the Hunter's Gate. She saw Stark banners, and Bolton banners, and Umber banners, and banners of many other northern families. She saw many wildling men on their shaggy ponies, fighting with the battle madness on them. And here she saw a madman in red with a flaming sword cutting down wights left and right. And there she saw a small man she had never seen before in her life on the back of a big snow bear, with wolves and a big shadow cat running at his side and an eagle flying overhead, and the beasts were tearing and clawing at the wights. Before Arya could get over the shock of this sight she saw a thin pale man with the flayed Bolton man on his surcoat and she knew he was Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort, her father's enemy, but now he was on their side and somehow he was here with many of his men.

And her heart leaped as she saw her father with his big sword Ice fighting with an Other, both on horseback, and Lord Eddard Stark somehow found the strength to hold the great sword one-handed and he parried a blow and sliced the head off the Other and it melted into nothing. And there was her big brother Robb with Grey Wind beside him fighting and cutting and hacking his way through wights.

Now Arya's eyes looked and looked but she could not see him and then he was there, on the ground, swinging a big war hammer and crushing the skull of a tall wight before him. The wight fell and Arya ran up with her torch and stuck it in its body. And then she felt a sharp blow to her side and felt something scrape along her chain mail on the left side.

"ARYA!" Gendry screamed in fear as she fell to the ground and then he swung his war hammer and knocked down the wight that had tried to kill her. He leaped on its body and smashed its head into nothing with his hammer. Arya thrust her torch into this one's twitching body too and it caught fire.

And then the wights were running. The Others were all dead or gone already and somehow the wights knew to run and soon those not already defeated were gone. The defenders ran down as many as they could but many got away, mostly through the Hunter's Gate.

As the battle ended Lord Stark leaped off his horse and shouted orders. "Bar the gates! See to the wounded! Burn the dead!" And men moved to carry out his orders.

With tears in her eyes Arya watched as her mother came out of the infirmary and her father approached her. He dipped his head. "Sorry I am late, my lady," he said and Catelyn Stark burst into tears and hugged her husband tight. Roslin cried out when she saw Robb and ran to him as well and he kissed her and held her close.

"Are you hurt?" Gendry asked Arya and he examined her side where the wight's sword had thrust into her.

"No," she said. "The chain mail saved me. As did your name day gift." And then she took off her helmet and leaped at him and he picked her up and they hugged and Arya cried and did not care who saw them. As he gently put her down her eyes cleared and she looked up at her tall strong blacksmith. His beard was black and thick and crusted with snow and his eyes were blue and clear and full of adoration for her. She smiled and he smiled back and Arya felt warm all over despite the freezing cold.

"Knew you'd come back," said a voice and there was Hot Pie, looking exhausted but unharmed. He and Gendry clapped each other on the shoulder and Gendry was really surprised to see him.

"What in blazes are you doing here?" Gendry asked.

"Long story," Hot Pie said with a knowing look to Arya. "But what about you lot? What happened?"

"It's a long story as well," Gendry said and in a few brief words he explained how they had gotten lost in the blizzard and how they spent a miserable night in tents that kept getting blown down. The next morning when they woke up the few giants that had been with them had disappeared, no doubt trying to go back to their homelands Sixskins had said. He was a warg who had the snow bear, Gendry explained to them when they asked. Then they came on a party of men led by Lord Bolton, who had gotten word of the fall of Castle Black and was making his way to the Kingsroad with almost one hundred men on horseback. After Lord Bolton and Lord Stark had words they joined together. But the way south was blocked by a large horde of wights and Others, so Arya's father had ordered them to circle to the west and come in through the forest to the Hunter's Gate. When they arrived the gate was down somehow so they just fought their way though the enemy and into the castle.

"There will be time enough for more stories later," Jon said from nearby as Gendry was talking. He looked at Arya. "Arya, how did they get in?"

"It…it was Maester Luwin," she said.

"What?" Jon said in disbelief. "He's dead."

"They turned his body into a wight," Arya explained and told him all that had happened. "He must have led them into the tunnel into the godswood."

"But they're wights," Gendry said. "How could a wight know where the tunnel was?"

"The first ones I killed at Castle Black remembered who Lord Commander Mormont was and where he slept," Jon told them. "We must bar the tunnel. Where is it?"

"I don't know," Arya said and neither did Hot Pie or Gendry.

"I do," said a voice and they turned and the big wildling woman Osha was there. "Come with me, Jon Snow. Blacksmith, get your tools and meet us in the godswood."

As Gendry made his way to the forge Jon shouted for some men to follow him and Osha and they were soon gone.

Then Arya's father was before her. "Little wolf," he said and as if in a dream Arya went to her father and he hugged her close. Soon they all went into the barracks infirmary where Bran was still in his bed.

"My lord," said Ned to his son Bran. "Well, done."

"I didn't do anything, Father," Bran said in his solemn way. "Jon and Ser Rodrik did it all."

"Arya and Sansa did their part as well," said Catelyn Stark with pride.

"And me, too!" Rickon yelled and his father ruffled his hair and grinned at him and at Arya and Sansa as well.

"You all did as I expected from those whose name is Stark." Then her father turned his usual grim way. "We cannot stay here," he said and that shattered all their joy at the attack being over.

Catelyn looked at her husband in surprise. "Ned? But…Winterfell is our home. And our food supplies, and…everything, everything for the winter is here."

"True, my love," he said. "But they are still out there. We have won a victory but they will come back in numbers. We must go south."

Robb shook his head. "Father, if we go south they can attack us in the open. Many will die in the cold and snow as well."

"And what about the food?" Catelyn asked.

Ned Stark nodded his head. "Aye. All you say is true. I must…I must think on this more. Come, we have much work to do. The dead and wounded must be seen to. And then we must prepare. Soon they will be back."

And so they went about gathering the dead and helping the wounded. Jeyne Poole was not the only familiar face they laid on funeral pyres of wood. Gage had died with an Other's sword through his fat belly, Karl the married apprentice smith had been killed as well, Codd the ironman had his head almost chopped off by a wight's axe blow, and many other men and women of the Winterfell guard and kitchens and other parts of the castle had died, as did many wildlings. Among the wounded was Mikken, wounded in the shoulder, Sam, who had taken a dagger thrust through his lower right arm, Val, who had another wound in her upper left arm, and Lord Umber, who was barely on his feet with two more wounds in his left arm and left leg.

But worst of all was Ser Rodrik. He had several wounds on his body and legs and as they carried him into the infirmary he gasped in pain. Maester William and Maester Aemon examined him and did all they could but the wounds were deep and Maester Aemon said he would not last the night. They gave him milk of the poppy and many people gathered near his bed. His daughter Beth sat by the bed weeping as Catelyn Stark sat with her with an arm wrapped around her shoulder. Lord Stark sat on the other side of the bed and held his old friend's hand.

"A victory?" Ser Rodrik gasped.

"Aye," said Ned Stark in a heavy voice. "You saved my family, old friend. I can never thank you enough."

"My…my duty," gasped the old knight.

Then one by one people came to say goodbye and when Robb saw him he almost burst into tears. "Thank you for teaching me to be a warrior," he said and Ser Rodrik only nodded, too weak to speak and as Robb turned away Arya saw tears in his eyes as Roslin led him from the infirmary.

Then Jon was there and Arya saw her mother stiffen and then Jon looked at her and she nodded once. Jon approached the bed and sat in a chair. "Ser Rodrik, the castle is secure, the enemy is fled and we are all safe," he said to him.

Ser Rodrik opened his eyes and looked at Jon. "You…you…are…a Stark," he said in a bare whisper and Arya saw the tears flow down Jon's cheeks and he stood and walked away rubbing his eyes furiously.

Arya followed him outside into the cold night air. "He's right. You are a Stark."

"Half Stark," Jon said in a heavy voice. "And half…half…I don't know."

That comment puzzled Arya. She had never really thought on who Jon's mother was. "Father never told you who your mother was?"

Jon looked at her for a long moment and a strange softness came over his features. "He said she looked like you," was all Jon said and then as Arya tried to figure this out he walked away from her to where the funeral pyres for those already dead were being lit. Jeyne had no family left and only Sansa stood nearby Jeyne's pyre as the flames were lit. As Sansa cried out in anguish, Arya and Jon came up to her and held her tight and she sobbed into Jon's strong shoulder.

Then Lord Stark was beside them. "He is gone," he said quietly and they knew who he meant. As Arya watched the flames of Jeyne's funeral pyre burn she wondered how many more such fires they would have to light before it was all over.


	27. Chapter 27 Eddard

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 27 Eddard**

As the late winter's dawn came through the cloudy overcast Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell stood on the battlements of the eastern outer wall of his castle staring out at the empty snowy expanse of the Kingsroad as it snaked its way past his home to the north and south. He was cold and it was a cold that went into his bones, through layers of fur and mail and boiled leather and woolen clothing underneath. Ned Stark had known cold in his life but this was something else, and he had to control his teeth from chattering. As the grey dawn filtered through the clouds he looked left and right along the wall and saw the defenders of Winterfell shivering as well, despite the many charcoal braziers placed here for warmth and as a source of fire to help protect them against their enemies.

Those enemies were gone…for now. The plan to evacuate the castle and its people to the south that was building in Ned's mind the whole way back to Winterfell had to be cast aside. The wights and Others had given them no respite to make any such plans let alone carry them out. Three times they had attacked in the last week since Ned and his son Robb and the rest of his rearguard party had returned to Winterfell. Three times they had flung them back. Three times they had to counterattack at the gates where the wights and Others were trying to get through. Three times Ned and Jon had to use their Valyrian steel weapons to close with the Others and kill them and drive back the wights. The outer gates were all now shattered, each portcullis gone, their heavy oak doors cracked into splinters, the stones all burnt black from the oil they had set on fire after they had poured it through the murder holes on the wights.

And now the oil was almost gone, the quivers of arrows near empty, and the defenders numbers were dwindling as well. The remaining fighters were distributed in the main castle towers and around the four main gates, which had been the focus of the enemy's attacks. Ned and the remaining men of Winterfell took the East Gate, while Robb had command of the North Gate, with Thoros and Osha and many wildlings at his side. Jon and Sam and the rest of the Watch and some wildlings had the Hunter's Gate, and Roose Bolton and a large number of Northerners had the South Gate. Mance Rayder and Val with a large body of wildling fighters formed a flying column ready to run to any gate if there was the threat of a breakthrough.

Bolton he had met on the road south, the day after the great blizzard that had separated the rearguard from the main body of wildlings heading south. It had snowed and the winds had howled for a whole day, dumping a foot or more of snow in their path. Great drifts up to ten feet high blocked the Kingsroad and the main body of wildlings was no where in sight. Ned had given the command to break camp and head south but no sooner did they have the tents down when a mob of wights led by two Others came on them from the western wood at the edge of the Kingsroad. The battle was brief and once Ned and his sword Ice turned one of the Others into melted water the rest retreated the way they had come. But six more of his men were dead and five more wounded badly enough that they had died soon after.

"At this rate there will be none of us left to retreat to Winterfell," Robb had said ruefully as they burned the dead bodies. The wood was hard to light, being wet with snow, and it took a while to get it going. Soon a smoking pyre was ablaze and not long after that Bolton and his men rode out of the eastern edge of the woods.

"The smoke of the fire we saw," Bolton said, his voice quiet as usual. He had about one hundred men on horseback with him, carrying the banners of the flayed man of the Dreadfort.

"The Wall and Castle Black have fallen," Ned told him.

"We had a raven from Maester Aemon with such news eight days ago, my lord," Bolton reported. He looked at Robb, standing by Ned's side in the snow. "I see one son. Where is the other one? The bastard?" Bolton asked, his words and tone hard to read.

"Jon is leading the vanguard," Robb told Bolton.

"We lost touch with them," Ned added. "I was about to send out riders to find them."

"Where are my men, my lord? Where is Walton?"

"Dead," Ned told him. "He was under the Wall when it collapsed. Fifty more are buried with him. The rest are either dead in our battles or with me here."

Bolton's face showed no emotion at this news. "I see. How did the Wall collapse?"

"It's a long story," Ned answered. "We will have time for it as we ride. What of your people? Your lands? Any sign of the Others?"

"Not when we left," Bolton replied. "But I gave orders to bring the villagers and their food stocks and herds inside the castle before I left."

"Good," Ned answered. "Come, we have much to do."

After that they had traveled south and Bolton and his men soon heard all that had happened at Castle Black and the Wall. Bolton took it all in and did not blame anyone or get angry. He was a cold man, with little emotion in him. Men of the North said it was the leeches Bolton used to suck out his blood that made him that way. He said nothing of Jon and the role he had played in the Wall's collapse, nor of Walton once he was told how he died. He never mentioned Ramsey, his dead bastard, at all.

Bolton joined their war council that first night after they made camp. Scouts came back to report they spotted fires in the far distance but a large body of wights and Others was between them and the fires, too many to successfully attack.

"We must find another way to Winterfell," Bolton said.

"What about the Wolfswood?" Robb suggested.

"Aye," Ned answered. "The Hunter's Gate. We can get close to the castle through the forest and into the castle before the Others know we are there."

But when they got to Winterfell the castle was under siege and Ned had no choice but the lead them into the fray, as tired and as worn out as his men were. They had won that first battle and he had been reunited with his family.

That had been seven days ago. Now he was home but it was not the home he had left. It was damaged and overrun with wildlings, villagers, Night's Watch men, and men of the North, scattered wherever they could find a place to set up a tent or lay their weary heads, even in the godswood. Ned's steward Samson and the Night's Watch steward Bowen Marsh estimated there were now more than five thousand people in Winterfell. Food they still had plenty of, including what the Watch and wildlings and villagers had brought with them, but it would not last as long as Ned had planned for it, not with so many mouths to feed now.

Worse was that most of those mouths were not warrior men. The old, sick, wounded, women, and children made up more than two thirds of the people. Some of the old wildling men and many of the wildling women insisted on joining the ranks and that helped but there were still not enough. Those that could stand did their part, cooking, cleaning, mending, caring, helping anyway they could. There were no idle hands in Winterfell. But warrior men were still in short supply, and those that fell could not be replaced. Boys younger than Robb and Jon were now holding swords and spears on the walls and at the gates, in ill-fitting armor, with fear in their eyes each time the wights came. Ned even had to give the Walder boys and Rickon weapons, placing them in the over crowded infirmary as the guard for that building. He had no men to spare for it. The boys saw it all as a great adventure, and perhaps it was better if they did not realize how much danger they were all in.

"Father?" said a voice beside him and there was his little wolf, looking more like a wolf now than ever with her direwolf helmet on and bundled up in furs, the cloudy frozen steam from her breath coming through the snout. That helmet had saved Arya's life in the first battle and the chain mail shirt she had underneath her furs had as well. She also had two swords, Needle as usual, but also a heavy, cleaver-like short sword, good for chopping the rotten legs and arms off of wights.

She was only eleven years old, but had been in the thick of the fighting, had saved the castle when she realized the wights were coming through the godswood, had stood by her sister in the infirmary and had defended her family and the wounded, had done him proud. All his children had made him proud when he had heard what they had done. Proud but sick to his core that his children had to do what they had to do because of his and other men's failings. Years ago he had prayed to the gods that his children would never have to take up arms like he had to do when he was barely a man, but that prayer had not been answered.

"Jon wants to see you, Father," Arya told him when he looked at her. She had been used to run messages between the gates, a position that kept her busy but also hopefully kept her out of harm's way. When the attacks came she was run ragged between the gates and other parts of the castle passing messages and each time Ned made sure he or Robb or Jon sent her where there was no fighting.

"Aye," Ned said in a heavy voice. "Where is he?"

"In the crypts."

"The crypts?"

"Yes. After breakfast he said he wanted to look at the family one more time. I went with him and then he told me he had something to tell you. Sam is there as well."

"They should be at their gate after they broke their fast," Ned said with an edge of anger. He turned to one of the men nearby and told him to take command. There was no need to tell him more. If they come, raise the alarm and prepare to defend the castle. "Well, lead on then," he said to Arya.

As they walked down the snowy stairs to the lower levels of the castle Ned thought on why Jon would go into the crypts and he suddenly realized why. The statue of Lyanna. It was the only true likeness of her left. Ned knew Jon had seen that statue several times before. But now it held a special significance for him. He wanted to see his mother.

As they came to the lower levels of the outer wall by the East Gate, Nymeria was waiting for them. They also saw Gendry and Othell Yarwyck, the First Builder of the Night's Watch, and the soldier called Royce, and Pyke the ironman, and five other men, all carrying heavy timbers and heading across the moat toward the East Gate on the drawbridge. As each man came across he dropped his timber in a growing pile.

They all dipped their heads to Ned and Yarwyck spoke for them. "My lord."

"Is this all we have for the barrier?" Ned asked, looking at the timbers.

"Aye, for now, my lord," said Yarwyck. "It won't last long but least it will slow them. I plan on building a stone wall as well, if the bastards out there will give us time to let the mortar set and dry."

Ned turned his eyes to Gendry. "What about the portcullis?" With Mikken still recovering from his wounds, and the senior apprentice Karl dead, Gendry had taken over the main duties of armorer and smith for the castle. The past week he and little Tim had worked as hard as anyone, mending armor, fixing bent swords, and making more arrow and spear points. Ned had given Gendry two of the village men to help with the labor but only Gendry had the skill to do the proper work of an armorer.

"We have the iron, my lord, but…if I make it I think it will not last."

"It won't," Arya spoke up, her eyes intent on Gendry. "I saw that Other touch the steel and it shattered in moments."

"Right. So…no portcullis," Ned said with a touch of worry, unwittingly betraying his fears. He was tired and his nerves were on edge. Everyone's were, with few sleeping well these days. "Best get on with it. Just…be ready to get across and raise the drawbridge again in a hurry."

"Not to worry about that, Lord Stark," said Pyke. "One sight of them demons and I'll fly across that moat!"

The men in the work party chuckled and Ned allowed himself a grin. Gerald Pyke had been the one he negotiated with for the surrender of the last tower at Moat Cailin. Now he was defending Winterfell. A strange turn of events. They all had the same enemy now, and any man who held onto the past was doomed, as Pyke said to Ned that first night when the battle was over. Ned made him a promise then, to release him and Codd when the fight was done. Pyke thanked him and then told him the news that Codd was dead and already gone down to the Drowned God the ironmen worshipped.

After Ned and Arya and Nymeria walked across the drawbridge and the inner gate guards dipped their heads to them Ned talked to them for a few moments to make sure all was well. After he finished he noticed Arya glancing back across the drawbridge at the work party as they began nailing up the timbers where the outer East Gate had once been. At first he thought she looked back to watch Gendry but then he saw her face almost in a scowl. Ned had noticed the tall one called Royce among them and then he remembered what he had been told by his wife the day after he had returned. Arya now had her helmet off, hooked on her sword belt on a metal hook Gendry had made for her when he had a rare spare moment. Her head was covered in a fur cap with its floppy ears tied tight under her chin. She was staring hard in the direction of the work party as they set to their task.

"He knows who Gendry is," she said quietly and beside her Nymeria growled as if sensing her mood. "I saw him staring at Gendry when we ate breakfast in the great hall two days ago."

"He's not going to harm Gendry in the midst of all of us. And he is not going to take him anywhere in this snow and with our enemies surrounding us," Ned reminded her. "But if it will make you feel better I will lock him up."

"No," Arya said, her tone a bit reluctant. "He saved me from Maron's wight. We need him on the walls. Besides, you are right, he has no where to go."

None of them had anywhere to go, but that was not something he wished to discuss with his youngest daughter. "Did you tell Gendry yet?"

Her cheeks turned a bit red when he asked this and it was not from the cold. "No," she said. "I don't want him to worry about something that might never happen."

"I understand, my daughter. But it is a poor way to deal with this matter. Lies only add up and things get worse later when the truth comes out." Ned Stark knew that better than most people.

Arya sighed deeply. "I will tell him tonight."

"Good. Now let's go see Jon."

As they walked they passed by many people and many tents set up in every nook and corner of the inner castle grounds. The barracks were filled, the Great Keep as well, and everywhere else inside was occupied. Most of these tents belonged to the wildlings and they were sturdy things, made of stout wooden frames covered in hides and furs, designed for rough weather and to keep out the cold and snow.

They soon entered the area of the castle that was the oldest part, where the First Keep was, past the guards' barracks and the Broken Tower. As she walked ahead of him, Ned reflected on what Arya had done and he thought on the conversation he had with his wife about Arya that first night when he was back in Cat's warm bedroom in her warm arms. Arya had killed two men in cold blood, without a hint of remorse. Two men who had come to Winterfell looking to drag the man she loved before the King. She would have killed the third man, Royce, if Ser Rodrik had not stopped her.

After Ned got over the shock of that news he and Cat had a long talk on what to do, especially with Royce, and he finally agreed to the course of action his wife had begun. What else could he do? Everyone believed Arya and Ser Rodrik had defended the Lady of Winterfell from two drunken louts. Only a few people knew the real truth. Now Ser Rodrik was dead there was one less.

Ned still felt keenly the loss of his old friend. They had to burn his body right away, with the rest of the dead. His daughter Beth wailed and cried and finally Maester William had to give her dreamwine to help her sleep. Sansa was also in tears, for the loss of her friend Jeyne, but after Jeyne's body was gone she had put on a brave face and helped where she could. She and Roslin now ran the kitchens, with the help of Three-Fingered Hobb of the Night's Watch. With Gage dead and Cat in charge of the wounded and sick with Maesters Aemon and William, someone had to take over the supervising of the food supplies and the kitchen workers. The two young ladies of Winterfell had the authority to make the rest of the kitchen workers listen and obey. Ned also placed guards on the food supplies stored in the many undercrofts and cellars of the castle.

All that first night they had spent gathering dead and wounded and burning wight bodies. When they found the remains of the wight that was Maester Luwin, burnt but still recognizable by his maester's chain, Ned shook his head sadly.

"I should have burned you when you died," he whispered to the corpse. "You did not deserve this. Be at peace now." Jon and Robb gently picked up the charred body and placed it on top of the large pile of charred wights that they burned in the central courtyard. They burned all night and the next morning there was nothing left of them but a large pile of ash which was gathered and dumped in the Wolfswood, where the strong winds scattered it. Every day since they had to burn more dead in the courtyard as the sick and wounded succumbed and renewed attacks brought more dead.

The next morning after Cat told him what Arya had done, he had confronted Arya in her bedroom. "Why did you kill those two men?"

"They wanted to take Gendry to the King," she had said as she started to put on her boots while sitting on the bed. "To his witch to do…gods know what they want to do with him."

"You've put us all in a dangerous position."

"I know. Mother has been very clear about that."

He ignored her slight insolence. "Arya, you had no right. I could have taken care of it."

"You weren't here," she had reminded him. "And how could you have taken care of it? He's the King!"

She was right. He couldn't even save Sansa's direwolf Lady when another king ordered it dead. It was not in Ned's nature to ignore a king's orders, if he believed that king was the real, true king. And Stannis Baratheon was the true king of the Seven Kingdoms. Ned knew his nature and knew what would happen. "Some day he will come looking for Gendry. He's a hard man, he does not give up."

"Some day is not today, Father," she said and then in her sad grey eyes he saw all her fears and worries. Her voice trembled as she continued to speak. "Winter is here, we are surrounded by enemies, and King Stannis is far away, and….and I am going to have breakfast with the man I love and then stand my post on a wall with him at my side and maybe die with him."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks by the time she finished and he hugged her tight and whispered it would all be all right, but he did not know if anything would be all right ever again. They had not spoken on it since but now seeing Royce and Gendry working together had reminded her of all her fears and worries.

Seeing the Broken Tower reminded Ned of one more thing, the fall of his son Bran. He stopped and stared up at it as Arya waited for him nearby the entrance to the crypts. Gods, Ned thought, if only I had stayed here that day. If only the Kingslayer had gone hunting as well. If only Cersei had stayed in King's Landing. If…

"Father?"

"Sorry. Just…thinking."

"About Bran?"

She was a smart one. "Aye. Come. We let the Lord Commander wait long enough."

The crypt entrance's heavy iron door was already opened. They went down the steep worn stairs and Ned saw that some torches had already been lit. The air was warmer down here, not the usual chill Ned remembered from the last time he was here with Robert. That had been more than a year ago, almost two, when Robert was still alive, when Bran could still walk, when the kingdoms were not at war, when the Others still slept. Would that he could go back to that day and find the courage to tell Robert that he could not leave the North to be his Hand. So much might have turned out differently.

They found Jon and Sam surrounded by lit candles near the stone statues that represent where the bones of Ned's father, brother, and sister were interred.

"He won't believe us," Ned heard Sam say as they approached.

"I have to tell him, make him believe," Jon was saying and then Sam stiffened as he heard them approaching.

"Lord Stark," Sam said as he dipped his head. He had a bandage on his lower right arm where a wight had stabbed him during the first attack. Many other wounded were back at their duties also. But some were still in sick bed, including two men Ned needed, Mikken and Lord Umber, both with fevers. Maester William said Mikken would live. The Greatjon…that was uncertain.

But Ned had no time to ponder all this now. Jon's back was to them and he turned. "Lord Stark…thank you for coming."

Arya laughed. "He's 'Father' Jon when other people aren't around."

Jon smiled. "Aye. Sorry. Father…we need to talk."

"So Arya tells me."

Jon looked to Arya. "Sorry, little sister, but this is commander's business."

Arya scowled at him but before she could speak Ned spoke first. "Aye, he's right."

She seemed about to protest when Ned spoke again. "Wait outside by the entrance in case there are problems above. Come get us if there is trouble. Can you do that?"

Arya nodded. "Yes." Then she looked to Jon. "You'll tell me later, won't you?"

Jon nodded slightly. "If I can." That was good enough for Arya and she was soon gone.

Now Ned looked at the two men of the Night's Watch. "What are you doing here?"

That took Jon aback, and it seemed he had been prepared to speak on what he wanted to say. "We…I…wanted to see the statues, to show them to Sam, explain about our… family."

"Aye, I understand. So, it is done now. Best get to the main point so we can all return to our duties."

Ned had no right to speak to them that way as they belonged to a separate group of warriors but ever since Ned had returned he exercised his power of command over all, not only the Northerners, but the wildlings and the Watch as well. He consulted with Jon, and Mance Rayder and Lord Bolton and the rest but his decisions were final and it had to be that way or it would have been chaos. They all accepted him as commander, even Mance Rayder who had as many and maybe more warriors than Ned did.

Jon seemed taken aback by this chastisement as did Sam, but Jon quickly recovered and nodded. "Right. So…I guess I best just say it. The man called Coldhands, the one who helped Sam and Gilly through the Wall…we met him again, just moments before the Wall fell."

Ned could scarcely believe it. "You met him again that day? What…what happened?"

"First you must know that we are telling you the truth. Right, Sam?"

Sam spoke up. "On my word as a Tarly, on the lives of my sisters and brother and mother and even my wretched father. I swear it is true."

"I believe you. Why wouldn't I?" Ned asked, puzzled by this strange tone they took.

"Because," Jon began and then he faltered. "Because…Coldhands is Uncle Benjen."

Ned felt a shiver run up his back and the cavernous vault swayed. "He's alive?" he managed to gasp.

"No," said Jon and Sam at the same time and Ned's mind reeled as the truth dawned on him. Coldhands was not a man. Sam had told him that weeks ago at the Wall.

"No…of course not," he said when he steadied himself. "Then he is a wight, that is what you are telling me?"

"No!" said Jon in a hurry. Quickly Jon explained it all, how they met Coldhands, how he proved he was Benjen and how he died, and how the children of the forest saved him, and made him their messenger. It took time and Ned kept asking questions and finally Ned was willing to believe them.

"I knew it was wishful thinking to hope he was still alive," he said with a heavy heart. Now he was truly the last of his father's children. "So…he is their messenger. And what message did he have?"

Now Jon cast his eyes away and Ned had known him to do this since he was a small boy and had done something bad and was asked to tell the truth. Jon's voice faltered again and then Sam said it, and said it quickly to get it over and done.

"Bran must go north of the Wall."

"Never," Ned said immediately without even taking the time to absorb the impact of Sam's words.

Jon now recovered his nerve. "Coldhands said if he doesn't go, then we are all lost and the Others will rule the world."

"Coldhands says?" Ned repeated, scarcely believing what they were telling him. First the Reed boy and now this. "He says he is Benjen, aye, maybe he once was. But what is he now? Who's side is he on? Why does he need Bran to go north of the Wall?"

"We know not," Jon admitted.

"He helped me and Gilly," Sam said and then his voice stammered and he looked down. "I…I didn't tell you the whole truth Lord Stark, about what happened to me with Coldhands. When he showed me and Gilly how to go through the Wall he told me someone should be waiting on the other side of the Wall. That I was to help the person through, show him the way, bring him to Coldhands. He said that someone would be Bran Stark. But he wasn't there."

Again Ned's mind reeled. No, he wasn't there because Ned had stopped him. Jojen and Meera Reed said he must go to the Wall but Ned had forbidden it. Again he wondered why Bran was chosen for this task. "It can't be. Bran…he's just a boy…he's a cripple…how can he save us from the Others?"

"We know not," Jon repeated. "Strange things are happening, Father, all over the world. You and Maester Aemon both said so. Dragons in the east, us being wargs, the Others walking again, me blowing that horn, the Wall collapsing. Strange things no one of us can understand or explain properly. Bran is part of it somehow."

Ned hesitated before speaking next. "I…I have heard this story once before. Howland Reed's son Jojen said…"

"I know," Jon interrupted. "Robb told me all about it."

"Ah, well, then you know what I decided then," Ned replied. "It still stands now. Even more so now. The land is crawling with wights and Others. We do not know where this Coldhands is now. And what is Bran to do once North of the Wall, if he makes it? Above all, he cannot go alone. Who will carry him, help him, guide him, defend him?"

"I will," Jon and Sam said as one and then they both grinned and looked at each other.

"No," Ned told them, and their grins faded. "Bran is not going anywhere. Let us not talk on this again."

"Father," Jon said in a grim tone. "We are telling the truth."

"I believe you. But is Coldhands? Is what Jojen Reed says he sees real or the feverish dreams of a child? I will not risk Bran's life on such a weak foundation."

Jon would not give up so easily. "Let us take him. Let me make it right."

Ned knew what he was talking about. "You are not to blame for all this."

"I blew the horn," Jon said quietly, the shame in his voice clear.

"It is done and there is naught to be done about it," Ned told him once again.

Jon now had a feverish intensity in his eyes. "Yes, there is. I can take…"

"No, Jon…leave it be." Ned said it harshly and then regretted his tone when he saw the hurt look in Jon's eyes. "Jon…I'm sorry…but that is my final decision."

He thought Jon would protest more but he only sighed and nodded his head, as if accepting defeat in this matter. But Sam would not let it go. "Lord Stark, I am a coward. I know this is true, no matter how many Others I kill. But I believe so strongly in what Coldhands said that I am willing to walk all the way back to the Wall and go under it again and do all I can to protect Bran until he does whatever he has to do."

Ned looked at Sam and put a hand on his shoulder. "You are not a coward, Sam Tarly. Any man that puts on the black and stands a post and has done the things you have done is no coward. But I have decided. This matter is ended, and you would both do me a great service by not mentioning this to anyone else, especially Bran and Lady Stark. Is that clear?"

They both agreed and Ned told Sam he wanted to speak to Jon alone and Sam left them and headed for the stairs.

Ned looked at the statue of his sister. "Robert said she belonged on a hill somewhere under the sky and trees."

"It's not our way, though, is it?" Jon said.

"No. The Starks are always buried here. I must make a statue for Benjen now. If the gods give me time."

"I have always wondered why you made statues of your sister and brother," Jon said. "They were not kings or lords of Winterfell."

"No, they were not. But I loved them and wanted them here with my father."

"I understand."

"I am sure some kings added a few family members as well, in the deeper crypts at least."

"I have never seen the deeper crypts," Jon said. "When we were boys Robb and I tried to go down there but it was flooded and part of the ceiling had collapsed."

"I saw them, many years ago," Ned told him. "Our father took us down, just the boys at first. Your mother wanted to come as well but my father told her once we were down and if she got scared he would not be taking her up until he was finished. She laughed and said she would not be scared and so she came. She was but seven years old but I think braver than the rest of us. I know I was scared the deeper we went. As we walked our father told us the name of each king and what he had done. They all sat there proud with their direwolves at their feet and their iron swords on their laps held by their stone hands. The direwolves were to protect the dead ones' bones from mortal men and beasts, my father said. The iron in the swords would protect them from the spirits of the dead. When Lyanna asked him what spirits would bother the dead, he merely grunted and said that the spirits he spoke on were long asleep and would not rise in our lifetime. Were that only true. I think now he meant the demons we see walking among us."

Jon had listened and then he spoke and what he said made Ned shiver. "Aye, the demons have come. The dead are rising from the lichyards of the North. Will these dead arise as well?"

Ned stared at him and then shook his head. "No…my father said the iron will protect them."

"My mother has no sword," Jon observed and it was true, Ned saw. Lyanna's tomb had not been given a sword or a direwolf statue. She was a lady of the North, but not a queen or a ruler. Ned had forgotten his father's words when he ordered this statue made many years ago. Yes, she needed protection, even in death. Now her son Jon took out his dagger and he placed it in the curled stone hand that rested on the lap of her statue. "To protect you from the demons…Mother," he said and then after a few moments where Ned let him be with all that remained of the sister he loved and the mother Jon never knew he said it was time to go.

In a short time they were above ground again, with Arya standing there by herself with Nymeria at her side as usual. She was as still as a statue, guarding the entrance. The air was frigid but the skies seemed to be clearing and the sun might even show its face today.

"All is well, Father," Arya reported and Ned was thankful for that much. "Sam has gone to look in on Maester Aemon," she told Jon. They left the area of the First Keep and Jon made his goodbyes and went to the Hunter's Gate where the remnants of the Night's Watch had their post.

As soon as they were gone Arya and Ned and Nymeria were making their way back to the East Gate, stepping between the tents that covered the ground, walking past the cooking fires of the wildlings. When they neared the gate Arya stopped him cold with a question he never thought he'd hear from her. "Who is Jon's mother?"

For a few moments he was too surprised to speak and then he spoke quietly. "A woman I met," he lied. "Let us leave it at that."

But Arya would not let it go. "I know that much. I mean, who was she? What was her name? Where is she from? How did you meet her?"

He sighed. "Arya, why all the sudden interest in Jon's mother? You have never asked about her before. Why now?"

"Because Jon said I look like her."

"He did?" That was foolish. Of course she would ask questions and maybe even draw some conclusions.

"Yes. And the only one anyone ever said I looked like was Aunt Lyanna."

Ned nodded slightly. "Aye, it's true, you have her look and temperament."

"Right, but she can't be Jon's mother because she's your sister, so…that's why I asked. Who else looks like me?"

He shrugged. "No one I know." He bent down and peered at her. "I think this is best left alone. Jon…"

Then came a shout from high above them. "Riders! From the north!"

In an instant Arya's question was forgotten as they rushed to the East Gate. Ned looked up and shouted to the guards high above on the inner gate. "The enemy!?"

A face peered down. "No, my lord, looks like Night's Watch! A long column! Maybe one hundred men on horse!" came the shouted reply.

Ned's heart leaped. If true, somehow someone had fought their way through and was on the way to Winterfell. He turned to Arya. "Run to the Hunter's Gate. Get Jon!"

She ran without replying with Nymeria at her heels as Ned hurried across the drawbridge to where Gendry's work party was just finishing their barrier of wood.

"Tear it down!" he shouted.

"But…" Gendry said as he hesitated and then he reluctantly gave the orders and they started to pull it down.

"We have friends coming," Ned told them and they worked faster and soon there was a gap and Ned crawled through. "Gendry come with me," he ordered and the big lad followed him, putting his work hammer on his belt and taking the big war hammer from where it was on his back.

They ran out the East Gate and were soon in the remains of the winter village. It was all destroyed again, fires his men had deliberately set a few days past when a great horde of wights came at the East Gate. The fire arrows hit the roofs of the houses and set them ablaze and the heat drove back the wights and Others. Now it still smelled of ash and death as he and Gendry walked through it and were soon followed by Royce and Pyke and Yarwyck and the rest of the work party, all fingering their weapons and looking uneasy.

The column of riders was long and strung out and even at this distance Ned could see some men were struggling to stay in the saddle. They were all in dark clothing and looked as if they were Night's Watch. In moments Yarwyck confirmed it.

"That's Cotter Pyke!" he shouted. "And Ser Denys!"

They ran out to meet the column where the Kingsroad met the short road into Winterfell. At the head of the column was Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister, with Ser Alliser Thorne right behind them, and many more men of the Night's Watch.

"Is it really Winterfell?" Ser Denys asked in a weak voice through frost covered lips.

"Aye," said Cotter Pyke as he climbed wearily off his horse and looked at Ned. "Lord Stark, I bring the remains of the Night's Watch. Where's our Lord Commander, that bastard son of yours?" The last was said with some anger.

"Here," said voice behind them and Jon and Arya just arrived, both out of breath from running.

Jon had no more said the word than Cotter Pyke pulled out his sword and came at Jon. But he didn't get far as Gendry and Yarwyck shouted and grabbed him by the arms and held him back.

"I told you I'd kill you if you fucked up!" Cotter Pyke shouted at Jon as he struggled against the two strong men who held him.

"Stay your hand!" Ned shouted at Pyke. This was a fine way to be reunited with allies.

"Let it go!" Yarwyck said to Pyke in a fierce low tone. The First Builder was strong as a bull, as tall as Gendry and wider at the shoulders. "The lad did not mean to do it. It happened and it is done! He led us here, kept us together, held the wights and Others back, kept them from overrunning us!"

"The Wall is gone," said Cotter Pyke in a strangled voice. He glared at Jon. "You're our Lord Commander! You blew that bloody horn and now it is all gone to hell!"

"Aye," Jon said heavily. "I blew the horn. I failed in my duties. If you want me to resign as commander I will."

"No," said Ser Denys as he at last joined them.

"I say yes," said another voice, that of Ser Alliser. He grinned at Jon through an ice-crusted beard.

"The hell you say!" said a new voice, coming from a large man running through the snow up the column of horses with a little man running behind him.

"Grenn! Pyp!" Jon said in shock. "But…how?"

"There will be time enough for stories later," said Ned as he stared at Cotter Pyke. "Now you are at my home. You will put away your steel and not take it out again till the enemy is on us."

Cotter Pyke reluctantly nodded. "Aye," he said and Gendry and Yarwyck let him go and he sheathed his sword. Then he glared at Jon. "There will be a vote on the morrow."

"If the men wish it, I will resign now," Jon replied.

"This is not the place or time!" Ned yelled at them all. "We have enemies near and your men are tired and hungry and some looked wounded. Let us get undercover and discuss all this later."

And so the remnants of the Night's Watch rode into Winterfell on their half-frozen, half dead horses, all of them tired and hungry with many sick and injured. Mance Rayder was there, looking at them, with Val by his side. Cotter Pyke spat on the ground when he saw Mance but they did not exchange words.

"He hates me still," Mance said to Ned by his other side, with Jon standing by Ned as well.

"I suppose he does."

"How did they get through the wights to get here?" Val asked. As she said these words a wounded Night's Watch man fell off his horse and Maester William and two other men rushed to help him.

"They fought their way through," Jon replied.

Then from the other side of the column of men riding into the castle Arya gave a shout.

"Gendry…that's my horse! My Lady!"

And so it was. The Night's Watch men Pyp and Grenn were riding tandem on My Lady. They climbed off and Grenn handed Gendry the reins and looked at Arya in confusion. "Your horse? I thought it was Gendry's."

"She gave it to me," Gendry explained. "Grenn, Pyp, this is Arya Stark."

Grenn and Pyp bowed their heads. "My lady," they both said and Arya scowled.

"Don't call me that," she said. "It's a horse's name now anyways. I thought My Lady was dead."

"Her stable was half-buried in snow and rocks but she was unharmed," said Grenn.

"She needs feeding and a rest," Pyp added, and Arya and Gendry said thank you to them. Soon Arya led the horse away to the stables as Gendry returned to working on the East Gate barrier with his work crew.

Jon and Ned were nearby and had heard them talking. "How did you survive when the Wall fell?" Jon asked his friends quickly, eager for news.

"We ran," said Pyp with a grin. "You didn't think we'd stick around with all that ice and rock cracking under our feet, did you?"

"After two days of walking we made it to the Nightfort and found a set of mostly intact stairs leading down from the top," Grenn continued. "There was ten of us. We climbed down and made our way back to Castle Black. We ran into Ser Denys and told him what happened. By the time we got to the castle you lot were days gone and the wights and Others were hard on your heels. They left the castle empty so we scrounged for supplies and found some horses still alive. Then Cotter Pyke came back with his bunch after a rider caught up with them as well. And…well, a few fights later and a long ride and here we are."

"A good thing you are," said Ned. "We need every man who can hold a sword."

Jon was looking about. "Where's Satin?"

Pyp shook his head. "He didn't make it when we ran."

"Gods," Jon said in sorrow.

"And what about Sam and Edd?" Grenn asked as he also looked about.

"Sam is well. Edd…a wight killed him in the forest soon after the Wall fell," Jon explained with sadness.

"Did no one else make it?" Pyp asked with fear.

"Marsh and Yarwyck, Maester Aemon and about fifteen more."

Soon the news spread and Sam, Maester Aemon, Bowen Marsh and the rest of the Watch already here were surprised at this news of the arrivals and helped where they could settling the men inside the castle. Sometime later after the lunch hour Ned met with Cotter Pyke, Ser Denys, Maester Aemon, and Jon in his solar. There was tension in the air and Ned could feel the anger in Cotter Pyke. It was good Ser Alliser wasn't here as well. He had asked to join them but Ned put a stop to it.

"I suffered your insults to me and my family at the Wall. I will not suffer them in my home," Ned told him. "You are not a commander. You are not welcome in any discussions and your advice is not wanted. I hear you are a good master-at-arms. My own died in the first attack. I need a man who can train some of these green boys how to fight. Can you do that?"

Thorne swallowed his pride and nodded. "I can…my lord."

"Good. Best get started then," and Ned turned his back to him and entered the Great Keep with Cotter Pyke, Maester Aemon, Ser Denys, and Jon.

"Tell us all that happened," Maester Aemon said to begin when they were all seated in Ned's solar.

And so the story came out, much like what Grenn and Pyp had already told them. They got word of the disaster and came back and found the castle empty and the Wall down on top of it. A survivor of the Watch they found deep in the wormways, buried in a storeroom behind some fallen ice and rock. He had been trapped during the evacuation, trying to get one last barrel of salted fish when the tunnel caved in right in front of him. No one came back to find him, forgotten in the haste to get away. Cotter Pyke's men heard him screaming for help as they looked for supplies. He told them how he heard Jon had blown a horn and the Wall had fallen.

"Is it true?" Ser Denys asked when Cotter Pyke finished speaking.

"Yes," said Jon.

"It is the Horn of Winter," Maester Aemon explained. "It was done unwittingly."

Pyke did not care. "He blew it, he failed us, he must pay."

"I will resign," Jon said immediately.

"No," Maester Aemon told him. "It is clear that we must have a vote on Jon's leadership."

They began to argue this point and Ned let them go on until he had had enough.

"It is done," he said strongly. "You may have your vote as long as it does not interfere with the defense of the castle. For now we are staying here, so I need your healthy men on the Hunter's Gate and…"

"Here?" said Ser Denys in surprise. "Surely we cannot stay here. All winter?"

"For now," Ned repeated. "The future…we must make a decision, and soon, before the real winter comes on us. I've called for a meeting of all commanders the hour before sunset. I want you there."

The meeting broke up after that, with a servant taking Pyke and Ser Denys off to find a place for them to rest.

"What is going to be our plan, Lord Stark?" Maester Aemon asked.

"Leave or stay are the only choices," Ned answered "What say you, maester?"

Aemon Targaryen took his time and answered in his slow, ponderous voice. "To leave means we must march through hundreds of leagues of snow and cold. We must carry the supplies we need. Wagons and sleighs we have enough of now, but the horses to pull them need fodder as well. We have more than a thousand sick and wounded, old and infirmed in some way or another. Plus hundreds more children. The column will be long and vulnerable. The march will take weeks, maybe almost a moon's turn if blizzards and our enemies slow us. And what waits us at the end?"

"The South," Jon answered right away.

"No," Ned countered. "Moat Cailin first, then the Neck and the Twins. There we will find little shelter. Who's to say if the snows haven't reached there already? After that is the Riverlands, picked over clean by many armies. We will find no food or shelter there either."

"Gods," Jon said as he took all of this in. "Then we have no choice. We must stay. And fight."

"It seems the wise choice," said Maester Aemon. "We have high walls, plenty of supplies for the moment, and shelter."

"We are forgetting one thing," Ned told him. "What of the rest of the people of the North? White Harbor? The Last Hearth? Karhold? Deepwood Motte? Torrhen's Square? Barrowton? The hill tribes? We have had no word of any of them except what Bolton told us of his lands. Where are the people? What are they doing now?"

"Ravens we have sent to all," said the aged maester. "Replies we have had none."

"They might be under siege as well," Ned ventured.

"Are the Others so many?" Jon countered.

"We know not their strength," said Maester Aemon. "But if they can animate all the dead in the lichyards of the North…that is eight thousand years of dead buried in crypts and caves and holes in the ground. Cold, frozen ground for the most part, where the bodies and bones would be well preserved."

"Gods," said Ned and Jon as one. All those dead come to life, all carrying a sword or spear or even a tree branch as a club would be a formidable force. Would they have to burn them all? Ned made a promise to himself then, if they survived this. There would be a new law in the North. All dead must be burned to ash. Never again would the dead be able to rise to haunt the living.

Ned broke up the meeting after that and Jon returned to his post while Ned took the maester to the infirmary. He expected to see Cat there but Maester William told him she had gone to the sept. He found her inside by herself, on her knees in front of the Mother.

"Cat?" he whispered quietly. She did not like to be disturbed at prayer. Ned did not worship the Seven but knew she was devout and respected her wishes and her gods. But now he needed to speak to her and so got down on his knees beside her.

"Yes, my husband?" she said. His wife expected bad news, an edge of tension in her voice.

"Ninety-six men of the Night's Watch have arrived, including Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister."

A slight sigh of relief and then an intake of breath. "Did they bring any food with them?"

"Some…not much. They had no wagons."

"More mouths to feeds," she complained.

"Aye, but at least these ones are fighters."

She said nothing and they were silent for a long minute as Ned's knees began to ache from the stone floor. In the godswood a man could stand or sit or kneel as he liked on the soft ground as he worshiped. But the Seven made you kneel before them and Ned often wondered if it was a test of one's faith to see how long you could stand being on your knees.

"Have you decided?" Catelyn asked at last.

He knew what she meant. "Aye. We will stay."

She sighed heavily this time, a sigh of relief. "Good. It is the best thing to do."

"Maester Aemon agrees. Now I must convince the rest."

"Let them go if they wish," she said, her tone harsh. Less mouths to feed if some went.

"They will die and come back as wights," he told her.

"When will the gods stop this madness?" she asked as if in a prayer.

"When winter ends."

"Will it ever end?"

"It always does."

Cat now turned and looked at him. "Ned, when Old Nan told those stories to our children of the Others and the long night with no dawn I always believed them to be just that…stories. But now…what if winter never ends?"

"It must."

"Why must it?"

"It…I know not."

"If we stay and fight, eventually our food and arrows and firewood and strength will run out."

He knew she was right. He also knew the wights and Others could stand outside the castle until those inside were all dead from the cold or starvation. They did not need food or drink. They did not need sleep. They did not need to stay warm.

"We must do something," he said. "We must take the war to them instead of waiting."

"How?"

And then Jon and Sam's story came back to him and he struggled to push it out of his mind but it stayed there like a burning piece of ember in the remains of a fire. He now knew there was a way to take the war to them, knew what he must do, knew what he had to do if any of them were to survive. But if he did so it might mean sacrificing a child of his.

"Cat…there is one thing we can do. One thing…." But he couldn't say the words and then came the soft voice of Lord Bolton behind them, saving him from saying what he had to say for the moment,

"Lord and Lady Stark?"

Ned and Cat rose as one and turned. "Aye, Lord Bolton. What news?"

"I sent a patrol out this morning from the South Gate, my lord. Ten men on horse, to see if they could find where the enemy was. They just came back. They had two prisoners."

"Prisoners?" Catelyn said in surprise. "You mean they captured two wights…alive?"

"No, my lady," Bolton said in his soft tones. "These two are living humans. A boy and a girl. Armed well. But they would not tell me who they are and why they were sneaking up on the castle through the snows. They said they would only speak to Lord Stark."

"Bring them," Ned said and Bolton turned and beckoned a hand to the open door. Two of his men entered pushing the boy and girl before them.

Ned got a queasy feeling in his stomach as he saw them and Catelyn gave a gasp. Were the gods working in their strange ways again?

"Lord and Lady Stark," said Jojen and Meera Reed as they dipped their heads. "We bring greetings and messages from our father," said Meera.

"Aye," Ned replied. "Lord Bolton these are the children of Lord Howland Reed. They are no enemies."

"As you say my lord," Bolton said and he told his men to give the Reeds back their arms and then he and his men withdrew.

"You look cold and hungry," Ned observed.

"Yes, my lord," said Meera. "But it can wait. We have returned for one reason only. Winter has come, the Wall has fallen, and the Others walk again. It is time."

"No!" said Catelyn, fear in her eyes. "You cannot have my son!"

Jojen stepped closer to them. "My lady, Bran must go or we are all doomed."

"Coldhands said the same thing," Ned blurted out before he could stop himself. He told the story of Sam and Jon meeting him as quickly as he could and as he finished there were tears in his wife's eyes. Ned wrapped his left arm around her shoulders.

"It was Benjen?" she asked. "Truly?"

"So he said he was."

"I have seen this man in my dreams," Jojen told them. "Tall, dressed in black, riding a beast."

"Aye," Ned replied. "An elk, Sam said it was."

"In the dream Bran was with him…riding the beast as well."

Cat gave out a sob but said nothing.

Meera spoke softly. "Jojen's dreams always come true."

Now Cat spoke, and there was anger in her tone. "Ned…he's just a boy. He's…he's crippled! How can he go there?"

As she spoke these words Ned had already decided. "Jon and Sam will take him, help him, protect him. Maybe Hodor can carry him or he can ride his own horse. I will ask one of the wildlings to go as well, someone who knows the land."

"Ned…this is madness!"

"My lady," said Jojen. "It is the only way to defeat them."

She broke free of Ned's grasp and turned on Jojen and his sister, eyes blazing. "GO!" she shouted. "Be gone from this castle this instant! Return to your swamps and tell your tales to someone who will listen!"

"We cannot return," Meera said calmly.

"We are going with Bran," Jojen told them.

Catelyn's face changed from anger to surprise to that motherly look she often got when she spoke to young people. "You will die as well then," she said in a strangled voice.

"If we must," said Meera, her eyes shining with emotion. "All must die some day. But if my helping Bran leads to my death and my sacrifice will save the realm, I will die gladly."

"No one dies gladly," Catelyn said, some of the harshness back in her tone. "Be gone."

"No one is going anywhere yet," Ned told her in his lord's voice. "They are the children of my friend and I will see them fed and rested before they do anything."

Cat stared at him and then nodded. "Very well. But they stay away from Bran!"

"Aye," Ned told her and then he looked at Meera. "Time we have, yes?"

It was Jojen who answered. "Yes. But do not hesitate for long Lord Stark."

"Come. You will rest and eat and then I must consult with Maester Aemon. He is old and wise and knows more of the legends of the past than any living man."

"Husband," Catelyn said with tears in her eyes again. "You cannot really mean to send him? Can you?"

"I know not yet," he lied. "I need more information."

She said not another word but returned to her place on the floor and lit another candle, this time to the Crone and she was asking for wisdom he knew. He left her there and took the two Reed children to the great hall.

As they ate their fill in the crowded hall many eyed them but no one approached. Ned asked about their journey here. They were ten days on the journey, but strangely they had not seen any wights or Others.

"None?" he asked.

"We stayed away from the Kingsroad," Meera explained. "We spent a day at Barrowton and told Lady Dustin of the approaching danger. She had already received a raven from Lady Stark. Her men did not believe it or us but she actually seemed to think it was true. She ordered her men to strengthen the defenses at least."

"Good," Ned answered. Lady Dustin had no love for him, he knew, but she would do what needed to be done to save her people. Her husband had gone south with Ned during Robert's Rebellion and had died in the battle with the Kingsguard by the Tower of Joy. There his bones still rested under a cairn of stones Ned had built for him.

"What news from your father and your lands?"

"Winter has come there as well," Meera reported. "The swamps are frozen and the snakes are hiding underground and the lion lizards are heading for the seashore. The birds have all flown south as well. There is also word of King Stannis at Riverrun. My father says he is marching west to face the Lannisters."

"That is old news," Ned told them. He had read all the raven messages, the last one from Cat's brother Edmure almost a moon's turn ago saying Stannis had arrived and was asking for aid. He wondered what had happened with Stannis and the Lannisters now.

Just then Sansa walked by, bundled up in furs, with a basket of bread in her hands. She stopped, startled to see the Reed children. "Father? What…what are they doing back here?"

"They are our guests and they are eating and resting," Ned told her sharply. "Where are you going?"

She was abashed by his tone and knew she had been rude and cast her eyes down. "To the North Gate with this bread for the men."

"Good," he said in a nicer way. "Tell Robb to meet me in my solar. Find Jon as well and Maester Aemon and Sam. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Father," she said and then was gone, her puzzlement clear on her face.

He turned back to the Reeds. "I am afraid I cannot give you time to rest. We must discuss all this about Bran now."

"We are ready," Jojen said.

The meeting in his solar took place shortly after. After the initial surprise at seeing the Reed children, introductions were made to those who were strangers. Ned then had Jon and Jojen explain all they knew about what they saw and heard and dreamed about why Bran must go to the Wall and beyond.

Maester Aemon pondered it all and listened and then gave a sigh. "The children of the forest are truly there?"

"Coldhands says they are," Jon told him.

Robb snorted, the disbelief clear on his face. "He said many things. Why should we believe him?"

"He is not our enemy," Sam said quickly. "He helped me."

"He is not even a man anymore," Robb shot back.

"He was once our Uncle!" Jon countered.

"So he says," Robb retorted.

"Enough bickering," Ned said in a restrained tone.

Robb looked at him intently. "Father, this is madness. What can Bran do?"

Ned sighed heavily. "What can we do here?"

That stunned Robb. "What…what do you mean?"

It was Maester Aemon who answered. "He means we are going to die here, all of us. And if not here, somewhere out there."

"Die? We are winning!" Robb answered strongly.

"We cannot win, my son," Ned told him. "If we go we will be slaughtered or freeze to death. There is nothing for us in the South. Already the snows and ice cover the Neck and maybe even the Riverlands. If we stay we will live longer. But with so many to feed the food will not last. Two years, aye, maybe, but what then if winter continues? And will our enemies even give us two years? Even two days? They are relentless. They will not stop…ever. Time means nothing to them."

"Why do they do it?" Sam wailed when Ned was finished. "Why attack us?"

"They serve the Great Other," said Maester Aemon. "According to some religions we are now in the midst of a great war between light and dark, good and evil."

"And who is Bran?" Robb asked. "The great hero who will save the realm?"

It was said with sarcasm and then Robb saw the looks on all their faces, saw that they all believed it and Ned knew he felt it as well. Robb was staggered. "You can't…Father… he's a boy…my brother…he can't even walk!"

Jon turned in anger on Robb. "Why can't you believe it? Why are you so stubborn?"

"He's our brother, Jon! You want him to die? Out there in the cold and snow at the hands of the wights and Others?"

"Here or there, what is the difference?" Jon retorted.

Robb stared and then looked from face to face, finally resting on Ned's. "Right. Then if he goes I will take him."

"No," said Ned. "You are needed here."

Robb snorted. "Because I have a wife who will have a child soon?"

"Aye. And because you are my heir and I need a good man here to help me keep these demons at bay until Bran does what needs to be done. Jon and Sam will take him."

Robb was surprised. "Jon? He is Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He cannot go either."

"I will resign," Jon said quietly. "They hate me as it is."

"We will go as well," said Meera.

Robb nodded and slumped in his chair. "Then it is decided."

"Aye," Ned told him and then they were silent for a moment. Finally, he looked to Maester Aemon. "Maester, I need all you know about the legends of the first time the Others came."

"I remember much but some reading I will have to do as well," Maester Aemon replied.

"Our library was burnt once but many old books are still there, and many old scrolls and such. Sam, help him."

"Of course," Sam said and he stood and helped Maester Aemon up and they were soon gone.

"Jon…find quarters for Jojen and Meera," Ned asked him and soon they were gone as well.

Ned stayed with his oldest son, his heir, his second-in-command. "Say what you think."

"It's madness."

"Aye."

"But what else can we do?"

"Fight and die."

"But we cannot win?"

"No…I think not. Just delay our deaths."

Then Robb sat up. "Mother."

"She knows the Reeds are here. We have already discussed this. She is against it as expected."

"And Bran? Does he know we are planning to send him to the Wall and gods know what on the other side?"

Ned stood. "No, he doesn't. Come. It is time to talk to him."

They found him in Maester William's tower, where he often went to read. As they entered Ned was surprised to find Catelyn and Arya and Rickon and Sansa there was well, all sitting with Bran as he sat propped up in bed. On the floor were all the direwolves except Ghost. Summer, Nymeria, Shaggy Dog, and even Grey Wind sat looking up at Ned and Robb intently as if they knew why they were here. Cat and Sansa had been crying. Rickon looked like he wanted to cry but was fighting to control his tears. Arya had an angry look and Ned knew she wanted to hit or kill something. Only Bran seemed calm, and had a peaceful look on his face.

"Father," Bran said as he came to the bed.

"So…you have heard the Reeds are back?"

"Yes."

"Ned…," Catelyn said and then fought to control her emotions. "He is just a boy."

"No, Mother," said Robb to Ned's surprise. "The gods have chosen him for this task. It is time for Bran to do what they have meant for him all along."

"The gods?" Catelyn said. "They…they crippled him…took away his legs."

"The Kingslayer did that, Mother," Bran said. "I know you are worried but I am ready. I must go."

Catelyn stared at her son for a long moment and then she nodded, a barely noticeable nod, but it seemed she had agreed at last and as she did so tears poured down her cheeks and Sansa sobbed as well.

Arya stood up, still in her furs and armor with her swords at her sides. "I will go, too," she declared in a firm voice.

"Most certainly not!" Catelyn said in anger as she wiped away her tears.

"My little wolf," Ned said to Arya as he bent down. "If you left you know who would follow. And I need a blacksmith now more than ever."

Arya nodded. "Aye," she said in resignation. "Then who will go with Bran?"

"Jon," Robb answered. "And Sam. Jon's sword will protect them. Sam knows the way under the Nightfort."

"And the Reeds," Ned added. "I am thinking one more person, a wildling."

"Osha," Bran said right away.

"I will ask her," Ned replied.

"I think Summer and Ghost will go as well," Robb said and Summer growled a bit as if it had heard and understood.

"Why does it have to be Bran?" Sansa suddenly asked, her eyes and cheeks red from tears. "The castle is full of brave warriors!"

"I know not, my daughter," Ned told her.

"The gods have decided," said Catelyn in a voice on the verge of cracking. She grasped Bran's hands and looked at him. "My brave boy. You are not afraid, are you?"

"No, Mother. I am going to find the three-eyed crow and I will fly."

"You can't fly!" said Rickon with a laugh.

"Maybe not," said Bran with a slight grin. "But I cannot stay here. I must go. It is decided."

They were all silent for a few moments and then Cat looked at Ned. "When?"

"A few days. Time to learn what we can. Time for the Reeds to rest a bit. Time to make a plan."

Then Ned sat with his family and they talked for a long time and it was good. And for a while at least no one attacked them, no one bothered them with any problems that needed taking care of, and they were all still together. He cherished these precious minutes, being with those he loved more than anyone else in the world, and Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell wondered if the gods would ever allow him to have such a moment again.


	28. Chapter 28 Daenerys

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 28 Daenerys**

Daenerys Targaryen awoke with a start from the dream she was having and realized she was still in her bed chambers atop the highest pyramid of Meereen. It was the same dream again, the one she had many times before. The red door was there, in the small house in Braavos, and her older brother Viserys was there as well. He was talking, about their family history, but she was a small girl and was not paying attention and he grew angry. He was still a boy as well, but when he unleashed the dragon inside of himself he seemed like a beast that had come to harm her.

And he would have if not for Ser Willem Darry, the gruff old man who was their guide and protector. He stayed Viserys' hand many times Dany remembered as she sat up in her bed. But then Ser Willem was dead as well as most of her family, and then there was no one who could stop the dragon inside Viserys. That's when the bad times began, when they had to leave the house with the red door, running from city to city, having to trust many who were untrustworthy, who only wanted to help them for their own ends. Bit by bit they were reduced to near poverty, selling the last of their family possessions just so they could eat.

Viserys had spent most of their little wealth on trying to win allies to their cause, to return to their birthright in Westeros. He feasted this prince and that lord, the captains of free companies, even the famous Golden Company once, and they took his gifts and food and wine and listened as they stuffed themselves, and made promises they never intended on keeping. People mocked her brother, called him the Beggar King, and always behind them they heard the footsteps of the Usurper's assassins. Sometimes in the middle of the night they would get word to move, and they would run. Those terrible nights filled her memories of her childhood.

As the years passed Dany was still but a child in her mind, shy and docile, cowed by her brother's anger and the power he held over her, but she also knew she was blossoming into a woman of beauty. Men began to look at her differently and her brother did as well. He told her all about the Targaryen brothers and sisters who had wed, who had fostered the line of rulers that was their family. He said one day they would be wed and Dany shuddered at the thought.

Finally, salvation seemed to have arrived for her and her brother both. They were introduced to Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos. Then things changed. They had at last found someone who was willing to help. Illyrio let them stay in his manse, protected them, fed them, clothed them, spent his wealth on their cause. But Dany had grown suspicious of anyone offering help over the years, and wondered how this new turn of events would play out. "Why is he helping us?" she had asked Viserys with suspicion in her tone and he grew angry and she learned to not ask questions about the fat magister anymore. Illyrio was kind, no doubt, and over time Dany cast her suspicions away.

Then one day Viserys told her she was to be wed. But not to him, to Khal Drogo of the Dothraki, and Dany shuddered once more. It turned out to be the happiest day of her life when she looked back on it. The Khal was a real man, not like her brother. He took what he wanted, and ruled his people because he was the strongest and bravest, not because it was his birthright. Her brother Viserys did not know who he was dealing with and paid the price for his arrogance and stupidity when Khal Drogo crowned him with molten gold. Dany watched it happen and did not even shed a tear when her brother screamed his last.

By then Dany was in love with Drogo and his son grew inside of her. But it was not to be. They were betrayed by the witch woman Mirri Maz Duur. Her baby died and then her sun and stars died as well. When he died she felt as if she wanted to die with him.

She walked into the fires of his funeral pyre, lived, and became the mother of dragons. She crossed the Red Waste, survived the warlocks of Qarth, and learned that her family's great enemy Robert Baratheon was dead. She started for home but had no army. In Astapor she found her army, eight thousand strong Unsullied. She broke the chains of the slaves in the city and then did the same in Yunkai and finally Meereen. She became 'mother' to tens of thousands and now she ruled as queen of Meereen.

But all was not well. Armies were camped outside her gates and more armies were converging on her, armies bent on vengeance for her breaking the eastern slave trade. She had her Unsullied still and several sellsword companies, one led by her lover Daario Naharis, and the walls of Meereen were high and thick. Still, she felt unsafe, and she knew why she had the dream of the red door in Braavos.

"I want to go home," she said aloud in the Common Tongue of Westeros. But no one heard her. She was alone in her bed, her lover gone for the moment to do his duty, and she knew her days with him were numbered. The proud and noble families of Meereen were secretly leading a rebellion against her rule. They called themselves the Sons of the Harpy and killed her loyal men in the dark of night. All would be well, she was promised, if only she would marry one of the nobility and restored many of the customs of the city. She had reluctantly agreed and the wedding day would be soon.

She heard soft footsteps and one of her Dothraki hand maidens, Irri, came into her bed chambers. "Good morning, _khalessi_," she said in Dothraki as she helped Dany out of bed and to get dressed. "The new day has come. Shall I draw a bath?"

"Yes," Dany said. "For after breakfast. But first…I will speak with Ser Barristan."

Ser Barristan Selmy came shortly after as she sat at her table eating figs and goat's cheese and flat bread. He was dressed in his white armor, his cape on his shoulders, his sword and dagger at his sides. He was old but he was still strong and brave and knew more about her family and Westeros than any man she knew.

"Good morning, Your Grace," he said formally. "How may I be of service?"

"How was the night?" she asked and he knew what she meant.

"No reports of any deaths, Your Grace."

She nodded. "Yes…they are still being compliant now that I have agreed to marry one of them."

"It would appear so."

She could sense the disapproval in his tone. "You still think this marriage is a mistake?" He had expressed such an opinion when she was first contemplating marriage to one of the Meereen nobles.

"It is not my place to question your decisions, Your Grace."

"No, it is not," she said. She was a proven leader but yet still a girl in many ways, not yet even sixteen years of age, the age of adulthood in Westeros her brother had told her once. He was over sixty and vastly more experienced and she needed that wisdom now. "But I am asking your opinion so please give me it."

"I have said this before, Your Grace. I still believe it is a mistake."

There was a brief moment when Dany felt a flash of anger which she pushed down inside of her. She had asked, after all. "The man I have chosen or the notion of marriage?"

"If you must choose one of them, then Hizdhar zo Loraq is the best choice. He is wealthy and has influence so he would make a good consort as long as he does not try to rule by himself. But…"

He hesitated and she knew why. "You think I should not marry anyone?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Not of this place at least"

"Explain yourself."

"First we came here to get an army," Ser Barristan began. "Then we freed the slaves. Now you wish to be queen of these lands. But there is another land where you belong, another throne that awaits you, perhaps another husband who will bring wealth and armies to your cause. This place, these people, this land…they are not yours. It is all theirs and it always will be. No matter who you marry, no matter how you dress, no matter how long you live here and rule here, you will always be an outsider. They will fear you, and many will love you, those who you freed most of all. But many more will not, and they will never stop wanting to remove you from power."

He was right and she knew it. "You still suggest we move to Westeros soon?"

"I do, Your Grace."

"You forget I am a stranger in Westeros as well. I have never been there since my infancy. The people there do not love me either."

"They will, Your Grace. They yearn for peace. They are tired of wars and rebellions."

"My coming will cause more war."

"For a short time. With your dragons and Unsullied and the men who will flock to your banners…soon the war will be won."

"My dragons are not full grown and will not bend to my will so easily. Drogon has been gone for many weeks now, out there feasting on sheep and the gods know what else."

People, she wanted to say, he is feasting on people, but she could not voice it. A man from the lands nearby Meereen had come to court with a sack of burnt bones, his child he claimed, killed by her dragon, and that night Dany had wept.

"True, my Queen, but you are of the blood of the Targaryens and Old Valyria, dragon masters for many generations. I am convinced you will find a way to control them."

"Your confidence is most reassuring, Ser Barristan," she said but she did not feel the same. "Yet even if this comes to pass, how will we get to Westeros?"

"We still have thirteen ships, Your Grace."

"Thirteen is not enough. As we have endlessly discussed already."

Thirteen ships given to her by Xaro Xhoan Daxos of Qarth, thirteen ships to take her home and for these lands to be rid of her for good. But thirteen ships were not enough to carry her and her Unsullied and the free companies and all those who wanted to follow her west. When she had refused Xaro had been angry and so had she. He had left, but not before giving her one more gift. A bloody glove…a declaration of war

"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said without any further argument.

"I cannot abandon them, Ser Barristan."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

He stood there and remained silent as she ate some more. Then she remembered her dream. "Do you remember Ser Willem Darry?"

"A good man, loyal to the end to your family. I know he took you and your brother from Dragonstone to Braavos."

She was about to put a fig in her mouth and stopped. "How do you know this?"

He hesitated a moment before speaking. "We had many reports on your movements when I served on Robert's council, Your Grace. I have explained this before."

She felt her body stiffen. "I do recall."

"I am not proud of my actions, Your Grace. I…"

"We are done with this, my warrior," she interrupted. "You served my enemies, I have forgiven you, you are now in my service, as is right. Tell me more about how you knew of our movements."

"I have told you much already. Varys had his reports from his spies…one of whom was Mormont."

At the mention of Ser Jorah Mormont, her strong bear, she felt a spasm of regret. He had betrayed her, the second betrayal she had been warned of. But he also loved her, she knew. "He saved my life."

"After he made sure the assassin knew where you were."

"He was trying to right a wrong…like you."

"Yes, Your Grace," he said and did not argue the point so she let it go.

"Tell me more about Varys."

"I know little of his background which he kept a close secret. But many know he is a eunuch from the Free Cities, Your Grace, whose sole purpose is to know the secrets of all. He and his kind are a necessary evil kings and queens must suffer if they are to protect themselves. He serves well, though, or he would have been killed long ago."

"Who's side is he truly on? Who does he truly serve?"

"Himself, Your Grace."

"But he served Robert Baratheon, yes?"

"Yes, and he served your father as well and Joffrey once Robert was dead. He stood there silent with the rest of those fools when Ned Stark tried to remove Cersei and Joffrey from power and failed. I read the letter Robert had given Lord Stark on his deathbed, giving him power as Lord Protector. Cersei tore it up in front of the whole court. And then the slaughter began."

"Did you take part?"

"No, …and did nothing to stop the slaughter, either," Selmy said with some reluctance. "I stood in front of the Iron Throne and protected the king."

"That was your duty. What happened to Stark?" He had been the Usurper's right hand, a key instrument in her family's misfortunes.

"He was imprisoned and then…I was removed from my post and left. After Joffrey tried to have me killed, I knew where I must go."

To her. "Where is Stark now?"

"The last word I had before I left Pentos was that he was freed and was trying to negotiate a peace between his son and the Lannisters. But that was many months ago, more than half a year, Your Grace."

"You mean their war could be over? There could be peace in the Seven Kingdoms again?"

"I know not, Your Grace."

"We need news, Ser Barristan. News of what is happening in Westeros. How can we plan our return if we know not what is happening?"

"There is little news coming to Meereen, Your Grace. The Yunkai'i and their sellsword companies and Ghiscari legions control the land. New Ghis and Volantis control the seas between here and the Narrow Sea."

She sighed and knew it was true. "Then I cannot sanction a move west until we have more news…and ships."

"I understand, Your Grace."

"Very well," she said and then sighed heavily. "I suppose I must don my floppy ears and hold court today."

"You are the Queen. It is your choice, Your Grace."

She had grown to dislike holding court, not because she did not think it necessary but because of how tiresome it all was. She hated wearing the ill-fitting _tokar_, the garment the nobility of the region wore, which she called her 'floppy ears' in derision, from a comment the sellsword captain Brown Ben Plumm had made about the necessity of wearing floppy ears if one wanted to be the ruler of the rabbits. By that he meant of course that it was necessary to follow some local customs if she wanted to rule. Dany had planned on banning the _tokar_, a symbol of wealth and the slave masters, but she had been persuaded to not as it would have offended too many.

Wearing the _tokar_ was bad enough, but she also hated sitting for hours, listening to the petitioners. For every three she pleased, one left in anger. But that was her duty as Queen so she must do her duty.

"Yes, we will hold court. Prepare."

He dipped his head and left her then and Dany took her bath which was ready. She donned her floppy ears soon after and made her way slowly down to the level of the pyramid below her chambers to the marble audience hall where she held court. With her walked Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas, the fat eunuch pit fighter who had come east with Ser Barristan. As always her Dothraki walked with her, her two hand maidens and her three blood riders. In front walked her interpreter, the small girl Missandei who Daenerys had freed from the service of the Unsullied master of Astapor.

Waiting for them was her perfumed and smiling seneschal Reznak mo Reznak and also commander of her city watch, Skahaz mo Kandaq, better known as the Shavepate for his bald head he had deliberately shaved to set him apart from the men of the city who prided themselves on their hair styles. They were two of her few loyal Meereenese nobles and she depended on them for the day to day running of the city.

Reznak she did not trust too far, not because he had done something untrustworthy. But all his advice had been to be gentle, to be kind, and the Meereenese would love her. Skahaz was different. He had a brutal looking face and a temperament to match. When the Sons of the Harpy first began to kill, his advice had been to kill a noble if any more of her guards and soldiers were slain. Then when she suggested taking noble children as hostages he had readily agreed. But when more of her men died and she did not, could not, kill the innocent children, the threat was proven hollow. Now that she was to be married to one of the nobles it seemed all this was no longer unnecessary.

The court she had not held for three days and now it was full of impatient petitioners. As she arrived many began to shout her name and call out to her but her Unsullied led by their captain Grey Worm pounded the butts of their spears on the marbled floor and silence soon came. As Dany sat on her pillow-covered ebony bench that served as a throne Missandei called out her name and titles and soon the business would begin.

But before the first petitioner could speak there was a commotion at the stairway leading to the level where court was held. It was her handsome Tyroshi captain and lover, Daario Naharis, dragging two men in chains behind him, with five of his sellsword companions bringing up the rear.

"My Queen, I bring you two spies!" Daario shouted in a loud voice as he swaggered into the room. People stood aside and the Unsullied moved those who were not quick enough.

"Spies?" Strong Belwas said with a guffaw, his big scarred belly shaking in mirth. "Strong Belwas sees two piles of mud."

They did indeed look like two piles of mud. They were covered in filth, both almost black with it from head to toe. One was tall, bearded and muscular, the other shorter and more plump and seemed bald. The reason the two men were covered in filth was soon apparent as the smell of them hit Dany's nose. "Gods," she exclaimed under her breath. "Have they been swimming in the sewers?"

"Yes, my Queen," Daario said with a look of disgust to the two men. "They were found before dawn." He looked to the tall one and snorted. "This one should have known we would have them guarded now."

As he said this he yanked on the chain wrapped around the tall one's hands. The man stumbled forward. "Aye, I did know better," said the man after he regained his footing. "I knew I would get caught. I wanted to get caught. To come before the Queen. To beg your forgiveness and to have the chance to give you wise council once more…_khalessi_."

Dany felt a shock run through her. There he was, her big strong bear, standing before her. Ser Jorah was about to speak again when at her side Ser Barristan gave a sharp intake of breath.

"The Spider," he said in a loud voice. "It cannot be."

"The…what?" Dany asked, still not over the shock of seeing Ser Jorah. Then the plump man bowed low and looked up at her.

"The Spider I am called in Westeros, Your Grace," said the man as he straightened his back. "But Lord Varys is my proper name."

Lord Varys, the Spider, the Master of Whispers for her father and later the Usurper Robert Baratheon, the very man she and Ser Barristan talked about not a short time ago. She glared at him for a long moment. "You betrayed my family. You betrayed me. I ought to have your head off."

"Then you would be deprived of the great news Ser Jorah and I bring. Once we've had a bath, that is."

Dany bristled at the insolence of the man but Selmy spoke before she could. "Ser Jorah can tell us your news just as well as you," Ser Barristan said sharply. "Say the word my Queen and the eunuch dies."

Varys spoke quickly. "If I may address the accusation that I betrayed your family, Your Grace, I may clear that matter up and save my head and also ensure that the prospects of your family's return to the Iron Throne will look that much better."

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said to her in a warning tone. "The Spider has been known to make men believe what is not true. I have warned you he only serves himself."

"Good thing I am not a man then, Ser Barristan," Dany replied, trying to speak calmly, to control her building anger. "Speak, Varys, and tell me the truth or I will let Ser Barristan do as he pleases."

Varys bowed again. "Perhaps in a more private setting…after we are properly clean and attired, Your Grace. I would not wish to offend you any longer with our horrible stench."

It was said in a fawning, obsequious tone that was meant to show subservience but only made Dany angrier. But he was right. They did stink and there were too many ears and eyes here. She gave the command to bathe them and clothe them and Grey Worm and some of his men dragged Varys and Ser Jorah off.

"Daario, please stay," she said as he was about to leave. The sellsword only laughed.

"I will return tonight, my Queen," he said with a knowing smile and as he swaggered away Dany felt a thrill of sexual anticipation flood through her body. Then she realized many were looking at her and her cheeks felt hot.

"A cool drink," she commanded and Irri handed her some watered wine. "Now," she said after she had a drink. "Bring forth the first petitioner."

Two hours later and she had had enough and was glad when her other hand maiden Jhiqui whispered that the Spider and the Bear were ready to speak to her. Missandei told the court in several languages that the day's business was at an end and after the groans and curses of those remaining subsided, Reznak went down among them and made promises to those more wealthy and powerful that they would be the first to be heard on the morrow.

Dany stood and her entourage followed her as Jhiqui led them to a side room where Ser Jorah and Varys now sat, both much cleaner and dressed in finer clothing, with plates of fruit, cheese, and bread before them and glasses of wine as well. They stood as Dany entered and dipped their heads to her.

"Sit," she commanded and they did so. She took a seat opposite them and bid Ser Barristan sit beside her on the right. Missandei stood to the right of her behind Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas took up position behind Dany flanked by her blood riders. The Shavepate and Grey Worm stood by the door but well within earshot, and four Unsullied remained outside the open doorway. Her maids began pouring drinks and putting food for her and Selmy on golden plates. When they finished they stood to the side and waited for any commands. Dany made no move to introduce anyone. Ser Jorah already knew those with her. As for Varys, the less he knew the better for now.

Ser Jorah was looking at her with a look she had seen often from him and she now knew what it meant. He looked like he wanted to speak but held his tongue and waited for her. She took a sip of sweet wine and then took a deep breath and stared at the two men opposite her.

"Explain why you are in Meereen. How did you get here and why are you entering the city through the sewers?'

Varys spoke first. "We came to find you, Your Grace. We sailed from Volantis more than a moon's turn ago as members of the free company called the Windblown."

Dany turned to Ser Barristan and he nodded. "We had reports of the Windblown taking part in the attack on Astapor."

"Aye," said Ser Jorah heavily. "We were there."

Varys spoke up. "Strictly speaking I did not take part in the attack. The commander the Tattered Prince found my talent for languages and gathering information worth more than my power with a sword."

"It is hard for me to believe this tale," said Dany to Varys and Mormont. "You attack the people I freed at Astapor, you march to here with my Yunkai'i enemies, and then you crawl through the sewers to sneak into my city. Now you say you wish to help me. Or did you intend to open the gates to those who wished to attack me?"

"No, _khalessi_," Ser Jorah said right away. "Never. We needed passage to Meereen and joining the Windblown was the fastest and safest way. The rest…we suffered in order to come here before you."

She nodded. It did made some sense. The seas were a perilous place for two travelers all alone. And once part of the Windblown, they had to wait until close to Meereen before they could sneak away. "Why the sewers?" she asked next.

"The gates are barred, your walls and the fields between here and the Yunkai'i lines are filled with eyes and archers," Ser Jorah said. "I knew the way into the sewers. I also knew they would be guarded. That would ensure we were brought before you. And so we were, _khalessi_."

"A sound reason," said Ser Barristan. "But why are you even here? Why return, Mormont, when you have been exiled? And why are you, Lord Varys, so far from Westeros?"

Ser Jorah spoke quickly. "I returned because by chance I ran into Lord Varys upriver from Volantis. He had much news of the west. So I joined him when he told me he was trying to find you, _khalessi_. I…I had to return. I could not stay away."

Dany listened and knew what he left unsaid. Because you love me, but she did not voice it. She now turned to Varys. "Why were you trying to find me?"

"To join you," Varys said. "To help you come to Westeros. To help your family reclaim their rightful place."

Ser Barristan snorted in derision. "Beware his forked tongue, my Queen. This one plotted against your family for many years while he sat at Robert's council table."

Behind her she felt tension grow in Strong Belwas and her three blood riders. Her Dothraki did not speak much of the Common Tongue of Westeros but they knew Ser Barristan was angry. She stared at Varys. "Now is time to answer these charges, Lord Varys. Did you betray my family and me?"

"You don't remember me, do you, my Queen?"

The question took her aback. "Remember you? We have never met…have we?"

"Yes, we have. Almost four years ago. In Pentos. I gave you a butterfly brooch for a name day present."

The memory came flooding back. She and Viserys were dining with Illyrio for her twelfth name day, just the three of them, for it would not do to have guests who might tell the wrong ears who they were and where they were living. But one guest did arrive. A bald, fat man, she recalled, though not as large as Illyrio. She was not told his name, only that he was a friend from the west working for their return to power. He bowed and smiled and gave her the gift, saying it had once belonged to her mother and he had secreted it out of the treasure vaults of the Red Keep. Then he and Illyrio and Viserys went off to discuss something and she saw him no more. The brooch was beautiful and crusted with small diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. When Viserys later saw it he snatched it from her and said if he sold it he could buy and keep a company of archers for a year. She never saw it again and later wept over its loss.

"I remember, Lord Varys," she said. "But I also cannot forget you two plotted to have me assassinated."

Ser Jorah had the decency to look embarrassed and his face flushed. "I stopped the assassin," he said quickly.

"You led him to her!" Ser Barristan growled at him across the table.

"I would not be so quick to condemn others, ser," Mormont retorted. "You were Kingsguard! You were supposed to protect her family! Yet you joined Robert as soon as the war was lost!"

"Aye," said Ser Barristan. "And shamed I am and will be to the end of my days. But I did not help Robert destroy her family. You sat on a horse beside Eddard Stark when he led the charge that crushed her brother Rhaegar's left flank at the Trident!"

"Enough!" Dany shouted as she slapped her small hand on the table. "This is pointless. All three of you have served my enemies. I want to know where your loyalties now lie."

"With you,_ khalessi_, always and forever," Ser Jorah said and she believed him, and knew he would die for her.

"My sword and my life are yours, my Queen," Ser Barristan said and she believed him as well, and never really had any doubts.

Only Varys remained. "I am loyal to your family, Your Grace. I have always been loyal and have worked these many years to return your family to the Iron Throne."

She stared at Varys, still uncertain of him. "You have been playing a dangerous game, Lord Varys. You offer my whereabouts to my enemies and yet at the same time you send messages to warn of assassins."

"Your Grace speaks true. A dangerous game I played, with you and your brother's and my own life at stake. But in all the years you were in exile Your Grace, how many assassins got close to you?"

"Only the one," she admitted. "Though there have been other attempts since I journeyed to the east."

"But only the one sent by Robert Baratheon got close," Varys said. "While with one word I was telling Robert where you were, with another word I was warning people close to you to beware and to move you. Yes, in order to stay close to our common enemy I had to give Robert some true information about where you lived. All lies are best served with some part of the truth. All except the last place in Pentos. I never told him about our friend there. But he knew you were in Pentos. I could not find you until you were married, I claimed, and that event was seen and known by many in and near Pentos and could not be kept secret. It is hard to hide forty thousand Dothraki. As information came back to me I told Robert what I knew, but I also sent word to warn of assassins."

Dany sensed much of what he said was plausible, perhaps even the truth, yet she felt she could not trust Varys, ever. And he had still not explained why he had left Westeros to come here.

"You have not yet answered Ser Barristan's first question, Lord Varys. Why did you leave Westeros now?"

"I left because it was time to leave, Your Grace," Varys began. "As you can expect many dislike me, even loathe me, and would like to see my head on a spike. As long as I was useful I was safe. But events happened which made the situation too unstable to assure my safety. "

"How is it unstable?" Dany asked as she sipped a cool drink of sweet wine.

"King Joffrey is dead, Your Grace," he said and by her side Ser Barristan stiffened.

"Dead? How?" Selmy asked.

Ser Jorah answered. "Stannis Baratheon took King's Landing and Joffrey died in the battle as did many others."

Varys picked up the tale. "The city was nearly burned to the ground after some hidden wildfire caches caught fire. Joffrey fell into the sea after an explosion. There are more deaths to report. Renly Baratheon and Tywin Lannister are also dead, some say killed by the sorcery of a red priestess of Asshai that rides with Stannis and may even share his bed. He has taken up her god as well, the Lord of Light."

"Renly I heard about, but not Tywin Lannister," Ser Barristan said with more surprise. "Joffrey dead as well, and Stannis sits the Iron Throne."

"Does the Usurper's brother still believe Cersei's children are the Kingslayer's?" Dany asked. Even in the east this rumor had drifted on the ships and tides.

"They are the Kingslayer's, Your Grace," Varys told her. "Without doubt. I know that Ser Jaime and Cersei have been lovers for many years, even before she married Robert. Her children are most assuredly not Robert's. Oh, Robert had children as well, seven that I know of that still live, all bastards with the blue eyes and black hair of the Baratheons. Cersei's children are all green-eyed and blond-haired like her…and her brother."

Ser Barristan grunted. "Apparently Jon Arryn and Ned Stark believed this as well."

"It matters not," Dany said, feeling her anger build again and having to force it down once more. "The Iron Throne belongs to none of them, Lannister, Baratheon, or Stark."

"Of course, Your Grace," said Varys with a slight dip of his head.

"What of the Lannisters now?" she asked next, in a calmer tone.

"The Lannisters are not totally defeated yet," Varys told her. "Their army survived intact and the Kingslayer and Ser Kevan Lannister are in command, so that is not good news for your cause, as they are both capable men. As is Tyrion Lannister, who was Hand of the King. However, Cersei hates him and conspired to have him take no part in the running of things, so that is to your advantage. The last word I had in Pentos was that the Lannisters retreated to Casterly Rock and declared Joffrey's brother Tommen king."

"Two kings still," Dany said. "But who do the people support?"

"It varies from people to people, Your Grace," Varys continued. "You must remember, my news is almost two months old. As it was, the Westerlands support Tommen, of course. The Stormlands and the Reach are supporting Stannis but the Reach only because he has Mace Tyrell's children as hostages. The Riverlands are a ruin from all the earlier fighting and have no strength to support anyone. Dorne and the Vale have remained neutral, so far. The Iron Islands rose up and Balon Greyjoy declared himself king also…so that would make three kings. His brother and son and daughter led invasions at Moat Cailin and in the North and there was even word that Victorian Greyjoy took the Iron Fleet and attacked Lannisport."

"Chaos still," Dany said, with some satisfaction, her earlier worries of facing a united enemy for naught. "My enemies are killing each other."

"What of Ned Stark?" Ser Barristan asked quickly "What of the North now?"

Ser Jorah answered, the anger on his face betraying how he felt for the Starks. "He lives still. He made peace with Tywin Lannister and scurried home, to find the ironmen had taken his castle. They rooted them out but now…there are more troubles in the North. At the Wall. Stark has led a force of Northerners to Castle Black."

"What happened at the Wall?" Dany asked.

"There was…" But now Ser Jorah faltered.

"The Night's Watch was attacked, Your Grace," Varys stated. "Ser Jorah's father, their commander, was among those killed."

She felt a sudden surge of sympathy for her strong bear. She too had lost a father, one she had never known. "I am sorry for your loss," she said to him.

"Thank you, _khalessi_," he mumbled.

"Who attacked the Night's Watch?" Ser Barristan asked Varys quickly, and Dany sensed concern in his tone. "The wildlings?"

"The reports came from one ship that put in at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. The sailors say the men of the Watch told them the wildlings were the main force involved in the attacks. But the men of Eastwatch also say there was rumors of the Others."

At this word Dany seemed at a loss. "The…Others? I…I recall some vague legend, from the Age of Heroes. Please explain."

"The Others are a legend of the North," Ser Barristan answered. "Demons made of ice and snow, who come during the coldest winter, with an army of dead arising with them, to overrun the world. They have not been seen for over eight thousand years, Your Grace. It is why the Wall was built in the first place. Most do not believe they were ever real."

Now she remembered, a story told to her as a child by Ser Willem. Viserys had scoffed at it, saying no demon made of ice and snow could stand up to a dragon. But there were no more dragons, Ser Willem countered, and Viserys had gotten angry and said he was the only dragon the world needed if these ice demons ever came back.

"Are you certain of this?" she asked Varys and Ser Jorah.

"We are certain of little, Your Grace," Varys answered and she knew that was an answer a man in Varys' position must have given many times. Here is what I know, but it might be wrong, and I am telling you this now so you do not say I lied to you later.

Vary continued speaking. "The report came from only one ship that had put in at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. The sailors were certain there was an attack, they were certain Lord Commander Jeor Mormont and many of his men had died, beyond that…answers varied, and much I believe was rumor and speculation."

"Is everything you say rumor and speculation?" the Shavepate suddenly asked in High Valyrian with his harsh Ghiscari accent. Dany knew he understood some of the Common Tongue but did not speak it well. He stepped closer to the table. "I know why you two came here. To take away our queen!"

Varys answered him in High Valyarian. "Yes. We have. As I have already said. If she is willing."

"I am not…yet," said Dany in the Common speech. She saw both Ser Jorah and Varys faces fall.

"If you do not leave soon, Your Grace, it will be too late," Varys said strongly

"Now is the time to strike, _khalessi_," Ser Jorah added. "Lord Varys is right. The kingdoms are in chaos. Stark is far away, Stannis and the Lannisters are each other's throats. Dorne will rise for you once you raise your banners."

"There is something else to consider," Varys said. "Volantis is now readying a fleet to come here, to add its strength to the enemies already outside your gates."

Dany sighed. "How many ships?"

"We know not," Varys admitted. "But there is fear in Volantis. Fear that their own slaves will rise up to cast off their chains. They want to crush you and end your reign and restore the slave trade. They will send many ships and men."

Dany had been warned by her husband to be that such a thing could happen. She was tired of all this, and her mind reeled with all the news they had brought. She still had some mistrust for them but they were right about one thing – Westeros was ripe for invasion. But how? She had enemies outside her gates, she had no large fleets, the Volantenes stood between her and the west, and she had little control over her dragons.

"I need time to think," she said at last to Varys and Ser Jorah. "And to consult with my own people. You will be my guests here, but do not presume too much. You will be confined to this building and guards will go with you always. Now, is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

"No, Your Grace," said Varys immediately.

Ser Jorah hesitated a slight moment and then shook his head. "No, Your Grace."

Dany gave orders to Grey Worm to see the two guests had freedom to move about the pyramid but to make sure they were always guarded. Then she left with her entourage behind her. She retired to her chambers high above and after Irri and Jhiqui helped her out of her _tokar_ and she changed in to a light pale blue linen dress she went out on her terrace to look over the city she had taken. Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas followed and stood by the open doorways leading to the terrace surrounding her chambers, where there were green gardens and pools of shimmering ater. She walked to the edge and put her hands on top of the low brick wall that surrounded the terrace.

The siege lines were still there, all around her city. She could see the many tents and siege engines of her enemies. Thousands of soldiers, all armed and ready to attack at a word of command. If they could, that is. Since a pale mare with a sick man from Astapor had come to the city, a bloody flux was ravaging the lands nearby. More sick people came, camped outside Meereen's walls, all from Astapor, fleeing the war the Yunkai'i and their sellswords made on the city she had abandoned. She had walked among the sick, fed them, and had ordered her Unsullied to gather the dead for burning. Her advisors had been aghast, fearing the plague would enter the city.

Fortunately the sickness had not made strong inroads inside Meereen. But outside she knew the enemy was not so lucky. That was an advantage…for the moment. How long would it last? How many would get sick and die before they gave up the siege and went home? No, they would not give up. She had wronged them, attacked their cities, broken their slave trade, overturned centuries of tradition in mere days. They would suffer this flux and anything else the gods threw at them as long as she was ousted and dead at the end.

But for now there was a truce. The Yunkai'i lords promised to keep the peace when word came she would marry a Meereenese noble. She had even told her husband to be that if he wanted he could re-open the fighting pits that Meereen was so famous for. But she hadn't promised to resume the slave trade, however, and that was what everyone wanted above all. Already Yunkai and Astapor had returned to their slaver ways. The masters wanted Meereen as well, for her holding the city and freeing of its slaves was a symbol of defiance against their way of life.

Many inside Meereen opposed her as well, even many of the slaves, she knew. When they were slaves they were fed and protected and had a purpose in life. Now that they were free many of them suffered, with no work and no coin and no food. Yet she could not do it. Seeing the horrors of the slave trade first hand she could not bind those again whose shackles she had broken.

For now, the truce was being honored and no attacks came. But the siege lines were still there nevertheless. Ser Barristan and the Shavepate both warned of her of possible treachery. She had no need of their warnings. The slave masters still wanted her dead or gone. They made a truce but still prepared for war.

Dany turned her gaze from the dry dusty land to the nearby blue shimmering waters of Slaver's Bay. Out on the bay were the signs that her enemies were still preparing for war. Many ships were moving to and from shore, unloading supplies and troops, and leaving empty, to go south to bring more men and supplies. Up the river that bypassed the city were more ships that had boldly sailed past Meereen and now blocked the upper river. Daario had secured trade with the farmers of the upper river region for their grain and sheep and for a short time this served well, as his men were guarding the supply lines to the city. That had lasted for less than a moon's turn. Then more soldiers came and blocked that side of the city as well, and cut off the supply route. Now hardly any food was getting to the city.

Dany had her Unsullied and two companies of sellswords then and could have broken open the supply route again. But with the changing tide of fortunes against her, one of the sellsword companies, the Second Sons led by Brown Ben Plumm, had deserted her, turned their cloaks, and gone over to the Yunkai lines. The treachery was the last straw for Dany, the third betrayal she had been warned about by the mysterious woman she had met in Qarth. After that she knew she could not risk her Unsullied and the Second Sons in open battle. If they were destroyed, her head would soon be parted from her neck. She had summoned Hizdhar zo Loraq and agreed to marry him if he secured ninety days of peace. Time is what she wanted, time for her enemies to grow restless, for the flux to ravage their ranks, for some miracle to happen. Peace they had now, for over a moon's turn, and there as pressure on her to marry Hizdhar sooner than later and she had finally agree. Soon it would be time to marry him.

Her gaze turned to the docks. In Meereen's docks she could see no trading ships, for Meereen without slaves had nothing to trade. Those masters of the city that had ships had ordered their captain to flee when Dany's army approached and now they had joined the ranks of enemy ships. There were many small vessels, the fishing fleet, but they were tied up, the fishermen afraid to venture on the bay now, even with the truce. She could not protect them. Her naval forces consisted of just thirteen ships, all galleys, but not well suited for war. Even if she left for Westeros on those ships would the enemy allow her to go without trying to sink and kill her and her people in the bay? Maybe not, if her three dragons flew overhead and would not let any ships near hers. But Drogon was gone and she could not control them anyway.

"Will they honor the truce once I am married?" she asked Ser Barristan. She knew he was near, always near, and he answered right away.

"Yes, Your Grace, I believe so. If…" But he did not finish.

She turned quickly and looked at him. "If I allow the slave trade to continue."

He nodded slightly. "I fear you will never be free of danger while here, my Queen. If you marry Hizdhar zo Loraq I believe soon he will want power, all of it. And soon after he will open the slave trade again. He made his wealth from the fighting pits. You have granted him leave to reopen them. Next, he will whisper in your ear and ask for the slave trade to be renewed. If you say no, then one night you may not awake to see the dawn. Maybe even if you say yes."

"Gods," she said in a bare whisper. He was right. "What…"

Her question never left her lips. Jhiqui entered and dipped her head. "Ser Jorah to see you _khalessi_," she said in Dothraki.

A flash of anger filled her. "I have seen enough of him for one day. Send him away!"

Jhiqui bowed again and spoke rapidly. "Forgive this one, _khalessi_, but he said you would say that and told me to tell you he has information about the Spider."

She hesitated and glanced at Ser Barristan. He did not speak Dothraki. "She says Ser Jorah has something to tell me…about Varys."

"Then we must hear him."

Dany remained on the terrace with Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas nearby when Ser Jorah came out alone. His eyes were for her and she saw him drink her in, all of her, and she felt an odd feeling, not of desire for him, but nevertheless she felt as if his eyes had stripped her naked. Then his eyes left her and glanced at her two guards. "We should speak alone, _khalessi_," he said in Dothraki.

"You gave up the right to see me alone many moons ago, ser," she answered in the Common Tongue. "They are my trusted guards and they will listen. And please speak the language of your homelands."

He hesitated and then nodded. "As you wish. The Spider did not tell you the whole truth."

"Explain."

"He and Illyrio have been plotting for many years for your family's return to the Iron Throne."

"This is not news to me nor a lie."

Ser Jorah raised his eyebrows. "Aye,...but they have hedged their bets. They knew no one could take the Iron Throne from Robert Baratheon or his heirs unless they were a true Targaryen. As it happens they had you, your brother, …and a third true Targaryen."

Dany took a sharp intake of breath. "A third? You mean two, only two, Viserys and myself."

"No, my Queen," said a new voice, and there was Varys coming onto the terrace with Jhiqui chasing him and shouting at him in Dothraki. Grey Worm soon followed.

"Forgive this one, my Queen," Grey Worm said with a bow. "He would not listen and I feared if I harmed him you would be angry."

Dany stared at Varys and then looked to Grey Worm and Jhiqui. "Leave us," was all she said and they bowed and left.

Ser Jorah was glaring at Varys and the eunuch only grinned. "Trying to make me look bad to our Queen?" he asked in his oily way. "I surmised as much. So why don't we tell the tale together? The tale we could not tell earlier when so many ears were present."

"Someone better tell me and soon," Dany said as she glared from one to the other and felt the anger build in her, and wondered for not the last time if the dragon was in her as it had been in her brother and father and many others in her family. "Three Targaryens? Who is the other?"

"Your nephew," said Ser Jorah quietly. "Rhaegar's son…Aegon."

"Aegon?" Dany repeated in shock and she sat on a bench by a pool and tried to understand it all. "Aegon…no it can't be."

"It's impossible," Ser Barristan said strongly. "Someone has duped you."

Dany still had trouble grasping what they were saying. "He died, didn't he?" she asked. "Before I was even born. When King's Landing was sacked."

"A baby did die that day," Varys said, as he took a seat on the same bench as Dany but not too close. "But not Aegon Targaryen."

Ser Barristan stepped closer to the eunuch, looming over him. "No. Tywin Lannister laid his body at the foot of the Iron Throne for Robert to see."

"Were you there?" Varys asked, looking up at Selmy.

"You know I was not," Selmy answered. "I was still recovering from my wounds received at the Trident."

"Tell me the truth of this," Dany said to Varys. "Explain it all, from the beginning."

And then Varys explained and the whole story came out, about how Varys switched babies, how he took Aegon to Pentos, how he was raised, and all of the plotting that went on for the last sixteen years. Ser Jorah told how he met Varys and went to the pole boat and met the strange company on it and later how Varys told him their true purpose. A long time later Dany was still questioning them and finally she began to believe them and finally asked the most important question. "Why?"

Varys answered. "To ensure one of you lived to reclaim your family's throne. Two Targaryens was good, three even better."

Suddenly Dany was struck by an awful thought. "Who is next in line?"

Varys looked away and so did Ser Jorah and their silence told her what she wanted to know. Ser Barristan finally voiced it. "If he is truly Prince Rhaegar's son, then Aegon is heir to the Iron Throne, Your Grace."

She grasped at his words. "Is he truly Rhaegar's son?"

Varys sighed. "I see my word is still worth nothing, even on the far side of the world."

"Your reputation precedes you," Ser Barristan said grimly.

Strong Belwas growled and stepped forward. "Let Strong Belwas cut him and he will squeal the truth."

Dany held up a hand. "No. Lord Varys will give me some proof that this boy is my brother's son."

"Jon Connington is the proof," Varys said quickly. "He was your brother's best friend. Even Ser Barristan knows this to be true."

"Yes," agreed Selmy. "They were the truest of friends."

"Connington knew the boy was Rhaegar's the moment he saw him," Varys continued.

The truth or another lie? She looked at Ser Jorah. "Tell me how those on the boat acted around the boy."

"The boat held a septa, a knight, a chainless maester, and an exiled lord," Ser Jorah told her. "They were very secretive, but I could see they all treated the boy called Young Griff with respect. I surmised they were his teachers, to help him get ready...but for what I could not guess. Now I know. If he was not Aegon, if Connington did not believe, then why was the boy being prepared to rule? They certainly would not have been so thorough with a mere sellsword's son, as Connington claimed the boy to be."

"Maybe Connington only wished the boy to be Aegon and played along," Ser Barristan said. "He is an exile and wants to return home. He would do anything…like you."

"Aye," Ser Jorah said, ignoring the reminder of his treachery. "Perhaps…but the boy…he had the look."

"What did he look like?" Dany asked quickly.

"He had blue hair, dyed to hide his true color, but the eyes…he had your eyes…he did look like you, _khalessi_."

That settled it for her. He had to be Aegon, and even if not, enough people believed him to be the dead prince to make him a threat to her own ambitions.

"Where is he now?" she asked quietly, feeling as if the whole world was crumbling under her feet, all she believed and was led to believe no longer having any foundation.

"He is heading west, Your Grace," said Varys. "To Westeros. As we speak he may already be there."

"Westeros?" Ser Barristan said in shock. "Already he moves to invade?"

"Aye," Ser Jorah answered. "The war to reclaim the Iron Throne may have already begun."

"With what army?" Dany asked. She had Unsullied and dragons. What did Aegon have?

Varys told her. "Illyrio hired the Golden Company for him. We had word in Volantis that many ships were moving to take him and his sellswords to Westeros."

It was starting to make sense, Dany thought. The fat merchant and the Spider had planned this from even before her father was dead and her family forced to flee. Aegon was sent to Illyrio to be raised by him because he was the true heir. Viserys and Dany were left with Ser Willem and forced to wander the Free Cities in fear because they were the backup plan. And then one day Dany and Viserys were taken to Illyrio's manse…but there was no Aegon, as he was already on that pole boat, learning to be a king.

"You kept us apart," she said aloud, getting angry now. "You never told us Aegon lived!"

"Yes," Varys answered calmly. "If one of you were somehow betrayed, we could not risk all three of you being killed. And if you and Viserys knew of Aegon's existence, Your Grace, somehow that information might have reached the wrong ears."

"If Viserys had lived…if Khal Drogo had lived…then what?" Dany asked Varys in a calmer tone.

"Then they would have joined forces with Aegon and the Golden Company and invaded Westeros together," Varys answered.

Dany laughed and they were taken aback by it. "You know not my brother, I fear Lord Varys. He would never have believed in your Aegon and would have killed him the first chance he had."

Varys smiled wanly. "Then perhaps it is best they never met."

"And what will happen when I meet Aegon?"

Ser Jorah grunted. "The cheese merchant and the Spider want you to marry your nephew."

She wanted to laugh again but didn't. All her life people were making plans for her and telling her want to do. "Of course they do. And if I refuse to marry him?"

Varys sighed. "Then Aegon will become King Aegon the Sixth of His Name. And you will be his heir."

"Until he has children. And then I will only be…his aunt."

"Aye," said Ser Jorah.

"This is all for future speculation, of course," said Varys. "You are here, he is there, and the vast world lies between you. And the throne is not won yet. Only the gods know what will come in the days and months ahead."

"Can Aegon win…by himself?" she asked, and this time she looked to Ser Barristan.

He pondered for a moment. "He has the Golden Company. They are only ten thousand strong but a formidable force. Connington knows Westeros, knows who will join them, who he can trust to still be loyal to your family. Westeros is in chaos, with Stannis and the Lannisters at odds and the Starks fighting at the Wall. All these are advantages."

"And the disadvantages?" she asked.

"Time, _khalessi_," Ser Jorah said. "Time is running out. And winter is coming." Dany felt a shiver as he said this even though it was a very hot day. "If the stories of the Others are true," Ser Jorah continued. "There may not be a kingdom left to return to."

Her head swam with all the implications of what they had told her. She turned away from them and went to the terrace railing and looked out over the city and the siege lines and the bay once more. For weeks and months they had no news of Westeros and now in half a day more and more the news piled up and more and more she was at a loss as to what to do. Stay and be a queen here and perhaps, no, for certain, one day an assassin would kill her. Or go west, with what few people her small fleet could carry, and pray for the winds and tides to carry them past the enemy fleets to the right place. Then find her nephew and join him and win the Iron Throne together before winter comes. But how could she leave her Unsullied and so many loyal followers behind?

"Ships," she said aloud.

"My Queen?" Ser Barristan said from behind her.

"I need more ships," she said. "Go and find me ships."

"There are no more ships," Ser Barristan said solemnly. "We have what we are going to have."

"Then I must stay here…and die someday," she answered, almost in a tone of despair. "Leave me."

They obeyed and a long time later after dark, she was eating alone when Daario returned. That night they sated their lust for each other and long after he was sleeping Dany went to her terrace and looked over the city again. In two days she would wed Hizdhar zo Loraq. Two days more of freedom to enjoy her handsome sellsword captain. Two days of life perhaps, for she knew not what would happen when she was wed. How long would they let her live? How long before he tried to take total power? How long before he poisoned her food or called an assassin to cut her throat while she slept?

She could be a queen here…and lose power before long, and then be murdered. Or a queen in Westeros…if she married her nephew. The thought did not bother her. From what Varys and Ser Jorah said he was a handsome lad, of her age, and of her blood. The blood of the dragon.

Dragons she thought of and dragons she wanted to see. Ser Barristan was sleeping now, and Grey Worm and ten of his men had the duty to guard her this night. Down into the bowels of the great pyramid they accompanied her, deep to the lowest levels where the great pit was that used to hold slaves. Now her two dragons were there, Viserion and Rhaegal, named for her dead brothers.

The Unsullied who guarded the vast iron doors to the dragon pit hesitated before opening the doors. She was surprised because the Unsullied had done all she had asked instantly, always. But now she saw something unsettling in the Unsullied who guarded the door. She saw fear.

"The Queen commands you to open the doors!" Grey Worm shouted at his men and they moved and slid open the iron bars and swung the doors open.

The smell and heat of the room hit Dany as soon as the doors were open. The smell of fire and ash, dead flesh, and a sewer. Dragons were animals, magical though they might be, and they ate and defecated like most animals. But they were also her children, the only children she was likely to ever have, and as their mother they immediately sensed her presence.

The head of Viserion was the first to appear above the pit rim and his golden eyes shone in the light of the lanterns the men behind her held. He let out a roar that sent a thrill through her body and in a heartbeat his green-scaled, bronze-eyed brother Rhaegal lifted his head above the pit rim and roared as well.

She could feel the tension in the Unsullied behind her, but she was not afraid. She was the mother of dragons. Gods, they are growing, she thought as she stepped into the room and walked to the edge of the pit. They were bigger than a horse when first led down here. Now…she could not compare them to anything. If she kept them here much longer could they even get out the door again?

"My children," she said in High Valyrian and they growled low in their throats and bent their heads to her. She touched them and she sensed them calming and she felt the heat when she touched their scaly snouts. "What am I do to?" she asked quietly. "Enemies I have all around me. Men who want me, but do not love me. A Queen I am here, but here is not our home. In Westeros I will be a Queen but at what price? I yearn to leave this place, but how can I when I will leave thousands to a horrible fate?"

She knew not if they understood her. She only knew that she wanted to talk to someone and they were her children and so she talked. She glanced down on their bodies and the filth of the pit below them, where thick chains still grasped their legs and held them where they were. Rhaegal strained at his chains and wanted to fly, but could not. How she wanted him to fly again, wanted to be on his back when he did so. How did they ride them, her ancestors? How did they learn to fly them, get them to obey? Was it like a horse, which you had to tame in order to ride it?

She had no answers. No one alive had ever ridden a dragon. She was sure there were books, with the history of dragons written in them. Ser Jorah had said as much. But they did not have these books. And she only knew a few words the dragons understood and would obey.

Dany looked down at the shackles again. "You are chained, as I am to this place. How can I break my own shackles?"

"By realizing you are free to do as you wish, _khalessi_," said Ser Jorah from behind her. Her dragons hissed as she spun around. Their massive heads snaked out past her body and they sniffed Ser Jorah. He stood there, unafraid, as behind him she saw even the Unsullied step back from the open doorway. Viserion and Rhaegal sniffed and then moved their heads back by her side and seemed to calm themselves.

"They know you," she said to Ser Jorah.

"Aye…we are old friends. They have grown…quite a lot."

"Yes. I fear soon I must move them to another place for this room will no longer contain them."

"In King's Landing there is a massive dragon pit," Ser Jorah said. "I have seen it only once, but it is an enormous structure. I also saw the skulls in the throne room once. Massive things, the largest were. The historians say that when the dragons were first placed in the dragon pit they began to cease growing to enormous size. Over the next century and a half bit by bit the dragons grew smaller until the last one that hatched grew no bigger than a cat."

"Are you saying my dragons will not grow bigger?"

"I am, though I am no expert. But all the stories agree on one thing. Dragons need to be free to grow, to thrive, to be dragons. All dragons need to be free."

Now she knew what he was saying. "I am the blood of the dragon."

"Aye."

She sighed deeply. "I must leave this place," she said quietly.

"Aye."

"But how?"

"Leave that to Ser Barristan and me."

"But…my Unsullied?"

"Take what you can carry, the rest...they will hold the city while we leave."

"You mean run."

He raised his eyebrows. "If that is how you view it, you will never be free of this place."

"I feel responsible for them, all of them. They will die when I leave."

"Unsullied will willing die for their master. As for the rest, I am sorry, but there is naught we can do for them. Mayhaps the enemy will be merciful."

"You know they won't."

"I know this. If you stay, you will die here as well."

"If I stay…what will you do?"

"Stay…and die with you…Daenerys."

He used her real name, and she felt a sudden urge to run into his big strong arms and have him hold her and protect her. She shook off the feeling and another thought came to mind.

"Drogon…he is out there still."

"You have two dragons. That is still two more than in all of Westeros."

He means to abandon Drogon…but could she? And if she did let Viserion and Rhaegal loose, would they follow her?

"Maybe they will fly away as well."

He looked from one dragon to the other, their massive heads still by her sides, eyes glowing in the semi-darkness, the heat from them making her skin glisten. "You are their mother, _khalessi_. They will follow."

She smiled, and felt it was right. And then she said what she wanted to say more than anything else. "I want to go home. To Westeros. It is time."

Ser Jorah nodded, and grinned slightly. "Good. When?"

"My wedding day seems best," she answered, a plan already forming in her mind. "The Yunkai'i lords will be here. Their armies will be resting. Maybe even some of their ships will be close to shore."

"A surprise attack?" Ser Jorah asked with a hint of admiration in his tone.

"Yes," she replied and she looked to her left and right at her two dragons. "Your mother is getting married, my children. Would you like to come to the wedding?"

And almost as if they understood her they both raised their heads and screeched in unison, and for the first time in months Dany felt as if she was at last slipping free of the shackles keeping her here on the far side of the world.


	29. Chapter 29 Tyrion

**Ned Stark Lives! Part 2 Chapter 29 Tyrion**

"It seems the reports of your injury were exaggerated," Tyrion Lannister said to his brother Jaime as they met for the first time in many weeks inside the lord's solar of the main keep of the Golden Tooth fortress.

With Tyrion were Lord Edmure Tully, Lord Bronn Towers, and Podrick Payne, all four of them dressed in furs and heavy cloaks, dripping wet from the snow that was melting from their clothing and boots. They had ridden for six days from Casterly Rock, with two thousand reinforcements for the army plus a long supply train. But the snows and cold made what was once a three or four day journey into a longer one. They had been lucky for the most part, having only lost six dead to the cold and accidents, and a further twenty-five men injured, mainly the result of horses slipping in the icy conditions and throwing riders.

It was after dark when they finally arrived and everyone was exhausted and stiff with the cold. After making sure his men were taken care of Tyrion had to give the required polite courtesies to the lord of the castle, or lady in this case, Lady Alysanne Lefford. Her father Lord Leo Lefford was with the army where he was in charge of the supply train. Tyrion was told by the castellan that she was in her father's solar.

Tyrion had met the lady of the Tooth once before when he had returned by the same road to Casterly Rock. Lady Alysanne was a comely young woman, with long brownish blond hair in a braid, and light brown eyes that reminded Tyrion of a doe. She was thin and not very tall, and had seen perhaps twenty name days. He also knew she was as yet unwed. With no other siblings, and her mother dead and her father advanced in age, she was likely to be heir to her father's lands, titles, and castle, plus the Golden Tooth's famous gold mines. As such, she had not been without suitors, but she had shunned them all, and her father had not pressed the matter. As Tyrion and his companions entered the solar she was sitting at the main table, obviously just finishing her supper, and she had a guest, Jaime. They were alone, with no servants or handmaidens about.

Tyrion expected to see Jaime in a sick bed, with his right arm missing, as per the report Edmure Tully had brought to Casterly Rock. Instead, Jaime was standing by a roaring fireplace, with a cup of wine in hand, his left hand, as his right forearm was heavily bandaged. He grinned in his dashing way, but Tyrion felt it was a little forced and he could see the pain in his brother's eyes. More pain was there as Jaime flexed the fingers on his right hand.

"Yes," he replied to Tyrion's comment. "The maesters wanted to cut it off but I assured them if they did so their heads would be next. They summoned all their powers of healing, plus a generous supply of boiling wine and poultices made of some foulness or another, and my arm was saved."

"The gods have smiled on Ser Jaime," Alysanne said, and she looked at Jaime and Tyrion saw the look, had seen many women give that same look to his brother many times, and now guessed why she had spurned other suitors. He would have to have a word with her father about all this. No, better a word with her. Father's were apt to get angry when they discussed their daughters and the men they have their hearts set on.

"Well, then we must thank the gods," said Tyrion with a grin. "I do not wish to impose, my lady, but my companions are tired and hungry."

Alysanne stood, her face flustered. "Forgive me, my lord. I will have rooms prepared for you and your men and…for Lord Tully as well."

"The castle's prison cell should do nicely for him," Jaime said, now staring at Edmure.

Alysanne hesitated and looked to Tyrion. "No, Lord Tully deserves better than that," Tyrion said to her questioning look. "Proper quarters for him…but with two guards outside his door. That should suffice."

"I will not try to escape," Edmure said. "On my word."

"There, see?" said Tyrion to his brother. "We have his word."

"A lot of good that will do," Jaime shot back. "I seem to recall Lord Tully saying other words, making oaths to Joffrey and his heirs."

"Your father made promises to me as well, Ser Jaime," Edmure retorted. "Promises of gold and peace for the Riverlands."

"Yes, yes," said Tyrion. "But it is late and we've been through all this and there will be time to discuss it again later, on the morrow." He turned to Alysanne and smiled at her. "My lady, please show Lord Tully, Lord Bronn, and my squire Podrick to their rooms and tell Pod where I am to be placed so he can find me later. I need have words with my brother. Alone."

She dipped her head. "As you command, my lord," and they were soon gone.

Tyrion took off his gloves and cloak and poured some wine from a flagon into a clean cup that was on the table. He took a sip, it agreed with him, and then he took a long drink.

"How is she?" Jaime asked and Tyrion knew who he meant.

"Worried to death about you," he told him. "She wanted to come herself but feared leaving the children alone. Sit, we have much to talk on."

He sat down and nodded to the chair opposite and Jaime sat as well, grimacing a bit as he bumped his injured arm.

"How bad was it?" Tyrion asked, looking at the bandaged arm.

"Old he may be but the Blackfish is still quite the man in the saddle and with a sword," Jaime said in a rueful tone. "His stroke cut through the mail and almost to the bone. About two inches below my gauntlet. The blood flowed and my men pulled me away from the fight despite my protests."

"Yes, and if they had let you continue you'd be dead now and our enemies would be rejoicing."

Jaime bristled. "I was never one to run away from a fight."

"Sometimes you must. Edmure says you wounded his uncle as well, so at least you can say you came out even with the man."

"He still lives from what we have heard. And coming out even is not winning."

Tyrion knew he hated to lose any fight. "We are winning, Jaime," he reassured him. "King's Landing is ours. I would like you to be there at the end when we march back and place Tommen on the throne."

"I will be there, hopefully with Stannis in chains or his head on a spike. How did you manage to rescue the Tyrell children? The news that came this way had no details of that adventure."

"That is a tale best told when the war is over as those responsible are still hard at work for our cause," Tyrion told him and then changed the subject. "What other news have you heard?"

"That Tommen sent your woman to the septas," Jaime said with a touch of sympathy in his tone.

"Yes," Tyrion replied quietly, looking at his cup in his small hands. "Better that than the fate Cersei wished for her."

"Gods. What a mess," Jaime said with some heat. "How much did our reputation suffer from this family squabble?"

"Less than our enemies hoped for. My name was dragged through the mud but Tommen proved himself worthy of his crown and is not under his mother's total control. Aunt Genna said you had much to do with that."

Jaime grinned a bit. "Good for him. Yes, I played a small role. I only reminded him that he was the King and that we needed you to stay where you were if this war was to be won. So it all worked out in the end."

"Not for everyone."

"I suppose not. I've also heard that Gregor Clegane is dead and you had a hand in it."

"His brother killed him, but I played a role in bringing them together, I must admit. Cersei started it all, trying to win the Hound to her side, no doubt to kill those who supported me. Maybe even me as well."

"Cersei would never do that," Jaime said with an edge of anger. "She tried to knock you down once, yes, but to spill her own family's blood…never."

Tyrion was weary so he let the point go. "She will never be satisfied with me taking our father's place."

Jaime nodded. "No, I fear not. You shouldn't have left the Rock. She will be starting some new plot by now. We cannot stand another such squabble. Soon someone who says they are loyal to our family will be thinking on knocking our family from power."

"They had best think on what happened to the last families who tried that."

"Father is dead, Tyrion. They grow less fearful."

"That is their mistake. Perhaps I should lop off a few heads to remind them who is in charge."

Jaime grinned. "Aunt Genna said something to me before I left the Rock last. She said trust in you because you were more like Father than anyone else."

That took Tyrion aback. "Gods, I hope not. His cunning I must admit I inherited, but I will never be as dour as he was."

"Then use that cunning to protect our family from Cersei."

That comment surprised him to no end. "Have your affections for our dear sister changed since we last met?'

"No. I love her still. Just…I now know she truly cannot be trusted. With both of us here, and Tommen alone….who knows what fool thing Cersei will do next?"

Tyrion knew he was right and had already taken measures to prevent Cersei from complicating life anymore. "Before I left I reminded Tommen that he was the King but I was his Hand and he was to sign no documents and listen to no orders from his mother unless I was present."

"He is still a small boy and she is his mother."

"Tommen is not alone. I also placed Aunt Genna on the small council, to keep an eye on Cersei."

Jaime grinned. "Cersei must have hated that."

"She did. But it matters not. I left word they were to make no major decisions until I return from my travels."

"There was no need for you to travel all this way just to check a scratch on my arm. I sent a bird, many days ago, telling you I was better."

"It had not arrived before I left," Tyrion answered. "Though I care a great deal for your health, I have not traveled all this way just to see you. I have more urgent business to deal with. North of here."

"North of here?" Jaime asked, giving Tyrion a puzzled look. "Riverrun is still under siege, if that is where you intend to go."

"How goes the siege?"

"Uncle Kevan has things well in hand. Stannis has retreated almost as far as the Twins. Our cavalry and Lancel's religious zealots are keeping an eye on him but we can't go after him in force until Riverrun yields. It would expose our supply lines."

"Good. But no, it is not Riverrun I am going to, though I suppose I should stop there and have a look at the situation. Did you say Lancel was near Stannis' army?"

"Yes, he insisted on bringing his men there. Those fools actually wanted to lead the assault on Riverrun. I think Ser Kevan sent him north just so he would not be anywhere near the boiling oil when the final assault comes."

"Too bad," Tyrion said. "I think Lancel would look good covered in boiling oil."

Jaime gaped at him. "What has made you angry at our cousin?"

"He had a hand in turning Shae over to Cersei."

"Indeed? Well, then that makes two of us who despise our cuz. Perhaps some boiling oil would do him some good after all. Or he could fall from his horse."

Tyrion sighed. "No. He is still Kevan's son. If he dies in battle that is one thing but I will not lay a hand on him. But when I see him we will have words."

Jaime looked at him in confusion. "See him? He is north at…oh. Gods. Tell me you are not thinking of doing what I think you are thinking of doing."

Tyrion knew he would not take it well but he had to say it. "Yes. I am going to meet with Stannis Baratheon and begin negotiations to end our war."

Jaime took a few deep breaths and he stared hard at Tyrion. "It's madness. You just said we are winning this war! You cannot negotiate with him anyway! He wants one thing only, all our heads on spikes!"

"Not anymore," Tyrion said.

Jaime was taken aback. "He has given you terms?"

"Edmure brought them. Stannis retains the Iron Throne, we all bend the knee to him, and peace returns to our beloved Seven Kingdoms."

Jaime snorted. "And Myrcella and Tommen?"

"Exile, with Cersei, across the Narrow Sea."

"Never."

Tyrion expected as much. "Agreed. Then I must offer him new terms, something that won't stick in his caw too badly."

"Why offer any terms? We can crush him."

"We haven't yet. He still has sizable forces in the field. The Vale may join him. We are hearing rumblings from the direction of Dorne as well. And he still has his red woman."

"She is nothing."

"Nothing? She almost destroyed the Tyrell army, she more than likely killed Renly and Father, and from what I heard she set hundreds of your men on fire when Stannis retreated."

Jaime said nothing to this and he now knew it was true. Tyrion continued. "No, we cannot crush Stannis and he cannot crush us."

"Then we starve him out. Winter is here, he is at the end of his supply lines and has few friends and few bases left."

"Maybe…if the Others don't kill us all first or run away back to whence they came. But now I am tired and in need of food and a bed."

Tyrion stood and as he went to leave Jaime stopped him cold with a question. "Are the Others real?"

Tyrion nodded. "There are too many reports to ignore. From Maester Aemon, from Jon Snow, from Catelyn Stark. All of them talk of the Others. The Wall has fallen for certain. They may already be at Winterfell."

Jaime was silent for a few moments and then said what Tyrion hoped he wouldn't say. "I am coming with you to speak to Stannis."

He was too tired to argue. "As you wish." He turned to leave but then stopped, reminded of something else. "Oh, and one more thing. The Lady Alysanne is infatuated with you."

"I know," Jaime answered and then he shrugged. "What am I do? She knows I am Kingsguard and cannot wed. And if I could wed should I confess I'd rather wed my sister than her?"

"No, that wouldn't do. I think it is time she was wed. We need to bolster up her position here. Her father is aged and she has no brothers. She needs a strong husband by her side."

"Do you have a suitor in mind?"

"I am still thinking on it."

Tyrion left him and found a servant waiting outside to take him to his quarters. He was given a lavish room, befitting his rank, with a large table, a bed with a thick feather mattress, and a roaring fireplace for warmth. His table was covered in plates of food and two flagons of wine. Pod was already there sorting out his clothing. Two serving women brought buckets of hot water, filled a copper tub, and Tyrion had a quick bath and changed into something warm.

"This weather will be the death of all of us," Tyrion commented after he dressed and looked out a window at the still falling snow. "But we must brave it again soon. A day or two here is all we can afford to wait. Then it is off to Riverrun and then…to face Stannis."

"Yes, my lord," Pod said. He looked ready to leave. "Will that be all my lord?"

"No. Stay and eat."

"I've already eaten, my lord."

"Then eat again, Pod. And drink. Winter is here, and the Others walk the land again. We better enjoy this food and wine while we can."

Pod sat with him and ate and drank as Tyrion commanded. Not long after Bronn came and joined them.

"Having squires sit at table with you now, is it?" Bronn said as he snatched a piece of bread from a basket on the table and flopped down in an empty chair.

Pod looked embarrassed and started to rise, but Tyrion told him to sit. "Never mind Lord Bronn, Pod. He seems to forget that he had nothing but his clothes and his sword when he first met me."

"Aye," said Bronn as he chewed his bread and poured some wine for himself. "And lucky for you I had that sword and knew how to use it."

"Yes," said Tyrion, knowing too well he would now be dead many times over if not for Bronn. "We are all friends here, despite the differences in rank. We need remember that in the coming days, as we are entering dangerous lands, my friends."

"Yes, my lords," said Pod as he nibbled on some cheese, and he seemed very nervous.

"Why are you shaking?" Bronn teased him. "It's Lord Tyrion here who has to stand in front of Stannis."

"Oh, how I wish that were not true," Tyrion said after a gulp of wine. "Stannis…I have not seen him for almost two years now. He always despised me at Robert's court. I am sure these feelings have only grown."

Tyrion had no wish to be here at all, wanting to stay in his warm castle with his books and wine, running the war from afar. But once he told Cersei and Tommen about Jaime's condition, Cersei had been distraught and wanted to go to see Jaime herself. Tyrion would have been fine with that, but he also knew she could never treat with Stannis. That news he saved for later, after she agreed to remain behind in the Rock while Tyrion went to see Jaime. Then he told them about the terms Stannis' offered and things went downhill from there.

"He is a fool if he thinks the children and I will go into exile!" Cersei had shouted after she read the letter from Stannis, her green eyes blazing with hatred and contempt, her voice high and shrill. "He is losing the war! Does he not understand this?"

"I think his mind is on the North more than us at the moment," Tyrion had replied. "But we must consider all these reports of the Others. If true…we must do something."

Cersei had laughed this time and called him a fool. "The Others? It's a plot, a trick worked up by Stannis and the Starks. Even you can see that."

"No, Cersei, it is not a trick. All of the reports say the same thing. And why would Jon Snow and Maester Aemon lie about this?"

"Snow is Ned Stark's bastard and would do anything for his father. Maester Aemon? Isn't he a Targaryen?"

Tyrion was surprised she knew this. "Yes, but…"

"But nothing," she shot back. "Robert and Father had his relations all killed or fleeing for their lives. He is after revenge. What better way than to help our enemies with this ploy? If you go North to treat with Stannis you will do exactly what they want. They will have you in a cage in moments, threatening to hang you if we don't meet their demands."

She didn't say it in front of Tommen but Tyrion was sure she would do her best to make sure his neck was in that noose if what she predicted came to pass.

Tommen had remained silent up to that point but then spoke up. "I will not run away."

Tyrion had grinned at him. "Of course not, my King. But I do believe these reports of the Others are true, and think it best if we open some sort of talks with Stannis."

"What will you say?" Cersei had asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"I will negotiate for better terms."

She had laughed then. "Why bother? He is finished."

"No, sister, he is not. He still has many men under his command, he has the Stormlands still and Dragonstone, plus many ships. The North would be at his side right now if not for their own troubles. And you forget that the Vale is being softened up by Petyr Baelish as we speak."

They had had a report from Mace Tyrell that Pycelle had told his new masters that Baelish had sailed away to the Vale on a mission to bring Lysa Arryn into Stannis' camp.

"We need to settle these matters once and for all," Tyrion had continued. "I am going to treat with Stannis…face to face. I will continue on north after I stop by the Tooth to check on Jaime."

Cersei had glared at him and held Stannis' letter in her right hand, and then thrust it into his face. "This says nothing about _you_ going into exile. He even offers you all your titles and positions once the war is over. If you try to betray us…"

Tyrion had been aghast that she had even suggested such a thing. He quickly allayed her fears though he was sure she did not believe him. Tommen gave him leave to travel and also signed a royal warrant giving Tyrion power to negotiate the end of the war. The next day Tyrion and his men had set out, and he was glad at least to be away from Cersei for a while. If he could have sent her to the septas or the Silent Sisters he would have. She hovered over Tommen like he was her last grasp on power. Tommen was still her son and Tyrion had allowed her to continue to be by his side and sit in on the small council meetings, but he made sure she made no decisions. He still mistrusted her and always would but for now he hoped she had at least been brought to heel.

Tyrion was brought back to the present by a question from Bronn. "Say again?"

"I asked you what the plan is," Bronn said.

"The plan? Well, seems we have some more traveling to do,…"

Both Bronn and Pod groaned at that. "When?" Bronn asked.

"Soon as possible. Stannis is waiting for us."

"He can bloody wait," Bronn replied. "We got us a nice warm castle with plenty of food and wine. Why leave?"

"Oh, stay, by all means," Tyrion replied. "When the Others get here look for the short wight with the mismatched eyes. That would be me."

"Wight?" Pod asked.

"The dead come back to life," Tyrion replied. "Animated by the Others."

"That's the part I don't get," Bronn said. "How in bloody hell do they do that?"

"No one knows," said Tyrion.

"It must be magic," Pod said as he drank some more wine.

Bronn snorted in derision. "Magic? No such bloody thing."

Tyrion raised his thick eyebrows. "Oh, I don't know about that. Strange things are afoot in the world, my friends. Dragons reborn, Others walking, this red woman of Stannis' and gods knows what else is out there yet to surprise us."

Soon after he was drifting again, his head and eyes feeling heavy, and knew it was time for bed. Tyrion slept well in the big soft featherbed, the best night's sleep he had gotten since leaving the Rock. The small bed he took when traveling was not well suited for the knots and aches in his back.

He was having breakfast alone the next morning when Pod announced Lady Alysanne at his door. He was not surprised as he had summoned her. Tyrion stood as she entered.

"Ah, my lady, good morning. Come and sit by the fire."

"Thank you, my lord," she said and she sat in a chair nearby the fireplace and he sat near her. She was dressed in a simple light blue dress with a flowery fringe.

"Some wine or anything else?" Tyrion offered

"No, my lord, I just had breakfast…with Ser Jaime." She blushed a bit as she said this.

"Ah, yes, my dashing brother," Tyrion replied. "He is quite the charmer. Best to enjoy his smiles and japes now as he will leave with me soon."

That took her aback. "Leave? He is still hurt, my lord. He should stay and recover more."

Tyrion decided to just come out with it. "He cannot marry you."

Now she really turned red and her voice caught as she spoke. "My lord? I…no…you misunderstand….he…he is Kingsguard. I know he cannot wed."

"Good. Then it is best to forget him and find yourself a suitable husband."

Now she sighed and he saw despair in her brown doe eyes. "There is no one suitable. Many have come to ask for my hand since I flowered six years ago. All they want is my father's land and titles and gold. I can see it in their eyes. They don't love me, my lord."

"I see. Well…there must be someone who does not want such things. Someone who is as wealthy as your family…well, no, perhaps not. But…I am at a loss."

She was looking at him with more despair in her eyes. "Your family is the only family richer and more powerful than mine own in the Westerlands, my lord."

"This is true," Tyrion agreed.

"Ser Jaime cannot wed," she continued.

"No, he cannot." And would not wed her if he had the chance.

Then Alysanne said something that Tyrion was not prepared for. "You are not wed, are you my lord?"

She was staring at him with her big brown doe eyes and Tyrion felt a shiver run up his back. "Me? No…no, not married. Well, I was once, but I was only a lad and my father had the septons annul it quickly enough. Feared the girl was after my gold only."

"I did not know that."

"A tale few know and I would like to keep it that way." Tysha, Tysha was her name, and she had been after his gold, and got it from him at the end. One piece only, but…but he had been in love with her and thought she had been in love with him…until Jaime told him the truth.

"Yes, my lord." Lady Alysanne said.

"Now, about a suitor for you…"

"You," she interrupted and Tyrion was confused for a moment and then realized what she meant and it felt as if the roof had came in on his head. "Why not you…my lord?"

"Me?" he said as if he was a frightened child caught stealing from the pantry.

Before he could say more she launched into her reasoning. "No one is richer that your family, my lord. No one is more powerful in the west. I need not question your intentions at all. I have counted one and twenty name days my lord and it is time I was wed. My father despairs of me ever choosing a husband and he loves me too much to force one on me. I...I would make a good wife. I could give you children. They could rule the Tooth and the Rock."

Tyrion had only one answer to all this. "I…I do not love you, my lady. I hardly know you."

She shrugged. "I do not love you either, my lord. But what does that matter for people in our position? Besides, I love no one else."

"Not even Jaime?"

She smiled slightly and it made her seem so much more lovely. "He is handsome…and I do care for him, but I know it is not love. Perhaps a girlish infatuation. If I am to marry someone I do not love, it had better be a man who wants nothing of me. So…if I must wed, I pick you…my lord."

Tyrion had to grin at that. She was wise in many ways. "My dear, your reasoning is sound. But…I am not my brother."

"I know."

"I am not handsome, nor tall, nor strong, nor…anything Jaime is."

"Oh, but you are so much more, my lord. You are more powerful than any man in the Kingdoms. My father said that he worried about you after they first named you Lord of Casterly Rock. He has heard rumors of your…weakness, for women and drink. Forgive me for saying such, my lord."

Tyrion shrugged. "No worries. The rumors are true. I am a drunk and I enjoy the company of women, often those I pay for their services. I even gamble on occasion."

He was trying to scare her away but she did not run. "All men have weaknesses, my lord. Women as well. But my father…now he says you are your father's true heir. I am sure he would not oppose a match between us."

There it was again, people saying he was like his father. The man who had separated him from his first wife. Tyrion had only one other thing to scare her away from this madness. He had to tell her the truth. "But…I am sorry…my heart belongs to another."

"Shae? Is that her name?"

Why was he not surprised she knew? "I guess news of my family squabble reached here."

"You forget my father was with the army nearby Casterly Rock. He was at court when she had her trial. He said…no, never mind."

"Said what? Tell me."

She hesitated and then lowered her voice to a bare whisper. "He said your sister should have been the one to go to the septas."

Tyrion laughed and she laughed as well. "I shall have to have a drink with your father when I see him next."

There was a silence then and Tyrion looked at the fire as she looked down at her hands folded on her lap. Then Alysanne spoke in a low voice. "I am lonely, my lord. I am the Lady of the Golden Tooth and have few friends. I am surrounded by people all day and none I can even talk to or jest with as a true friend as they are all in service to my house. Marry me and give me children and give me joy in my life for a while at least. While we still have life."

Tyrion felt he knew what she was getting at. "You have heard of the rumors of the Others?"

"They are not rumors, are they, my lord?"

"No."

They were silent again after that as Tyrion weighed what she had said. She would make a good match for him, the daughter of one of his lords, a daughter who stood to inherit much. It would make both their families stronger and join the two wealthiest families in the west together. But…Shae…he loved Shae.

"My lady…I must think on what you said."

She stood and dipped her head to him and then looked at him with her pretty doe eyes and she was lovely, no doubt about that, and Tyrion felt a stirring in his loins he had not felt for many weeks now. "Do not wait too long, my lord," she said and then she was gone.

"Gods," Tyrion exclaimed as he poured himself some more wine and gulped it down and then poured a second drink. "POD!" he shouted and in moments the squire was coming in the room.

"Yes, my lord?"

"We are leaving…today! Now!"

"Yes, my lord. I will tell the others."

He had to leave. He knew if he stayed here one more night somehow the lovely Lady of the Golden Tooth would end up in his bed, he would take her maidenhead and then he would eventually marry her. He gulped his wine and felt the lust in him only grow more. Rarely had women come to his bed without him paying them. In fact, there had been none except Tysha, or at least he thought she was coming to his bed because she wanted to. In the end she turned out to be a whore in disguise. And Shae…she had been paid as well…at first. Later she loved him and he knew it was true love. Now this girl who asked him to be her husband, she was all a man could want and more.

"Bloody hell," he said aloud. "I want her." But no one was there to hear and he was glad of it.

Outside the snows had stopped and the sky was blue and sunny. They left at noon, Tyrion, Pod, Bronn, Jaime, Edmure, and two hundred men all on horse, with some supply wagons to follow them. The rest of the reinforcements would wait until they were more rested and then move up to the Riverrun siege lines. Even as they waited to depart in the main courtyard of the Tooth five wagons rolled in packed with more sick, wounded, and frostbitten men from the siege lines at Riverrun. Lady Alysanne and the maesters ran about giving orders to take care of these new arrivals. Already almost a thousand wounded and sick men were at the Tooth. Tyrion wrote a hasty letter to Casterly Rock ordering more maesters and medicines to be shipped here as soon as possible. He also included a note for Cersei to say Jaime was well.

He found Alysanne in a long barracks that had been converted to an infirmary. He had the letters in hand and gave them to her. "For Casterly Rock," he said and she took them and nodded.

"I will send them right away," she promised and then from her dress pocket she took out a letter. "For my father," she told him.

He took it and then hesitated. "I would not make a good husband," he said quickly.

She shook her head. "No, my lord. It is not true."

"I don't love you. I barely know you."

"Does that matter?" she asked.

"It should."

"My mother came from the Reach. She and father met only two days before their wedding. We are high born, Lord Tyrion. It is our way."

She had him there. He decided. "I…will talk to your father about it."

"I explained it all in the letter for him."

"Well, then…I must go, my lady."

"Fare you well, my lord," she said and then she bent and kissed him on the brow, and Tyrion felt warm all over despite the chill in the air.

"There you are," said Bronn as he stood in the doorway of the infirmary. For some reason Tyrion felt himself blushing. "Time to be off while the weather is good," Bronn said.

"Right," Tyrion said and then he left without looking back at her.

He and Bronn walked in silence toward their waiting horses. Finally Tyrion spoke. "She asked for my hand."

Bronn grunted. "Ah, well. Here I thought you were just fucking her."

"Gods, I wish. It's been too long."

"I knew someone else would catch your eye."

"It's only lust. I still love Shae."

Bronn stopped and Tyrion did as well. "Shae is not allowed to speak for three years and then she will still be a septa for life."

"We could rescue her and sail across the Narrow Sea like we planned."

Bronn laughed. "Go if you like but I am staying. I got my lordship, lands, and wife at last. I'm not giving them up so easily. Besides, you are Hand of the King and Lord of Casterly Rock. You've got too much to do here. And you know Shae will never be your wife. Never."

Tyrion sighed. "I know."

"Then marry this one, fuck her all you like, make a bunch of whelps, and forget Shae."

But he couldn't. "I need to think."

"Well, it's a long ride to Riverrun. Think all you like."

It was a long ride to Riverrun, despite traveling on the Riverroad. In normal weather it would have taken three days. Now it took almost five days. They were frozen by the time they reached the siege lines outside the castle. The last time Tyrion had been here the land had been green and lush and the two rivers that flowed past the castle gurgled most pleasantly. Now they were frozen as was the land. Where Stark and Tully tents and banners once stood, now Lannister tents sprouted like mushrooms everywhere. Some intrepid engineers had even build a long, low hall of wood on the north side of the Tumblestone. Smoke poured from its four stone chimneys and a large Lannister lion banner and King Tommen's Baratheon stag standard hung over this wooden structure. Tyrion was soon informed that this was the headquarters of the army.

It turned out to be more than headquarters, but also a bakery, an infirmary, and a forge, all in separate parts of the long building. He found his uncle Ser Kevan and the commanders in the middle section, sitting down to their noonday meal as Tyrion, Jaime and Bronn arrived. The commanders all rose and dipped their heads and called him 'my lord'.

"Sit, my lords," Tyrion said as chairs were brought for him and Jaime and Bronn. Some of the lords eyed Bronn with distaste but he was a lord now as well and Tyrion was happy to have him sit at table with them all. He also spotted Lord Leo Lefford at the far end of the table and knew he would have to have words with him soon. After pleasantries were exchanged, they began to eat, and Tyrion asked for the latest news.

"We have the castle surrounded now," said Ser Kevan. "But the Blackfish refuses any notion of negotiations."

"Then it is high time we crush him," said Jaime. Though he was dressed in full armor, Tyrion knew the bandages were still on his right arm and he still had some pain. On the Riverroad each day after they made camp Jaime had Bronn practice with blunted swords with him. After each session Jaime's face was pale and sweaty but he kept at it. Bronn told Tyrion that Jaime was slow and clumsy and should not be practicing yet. When Tyrion mentioned this Jaime had bristled and said he was ready. That night when he and Bronn had practiced Jaime had knocked the sellsword lord on his ass and had almost driven the blunted sword into his face before controlling his anger.

"Crush him, yes," Tyrion said. "But we will lose many men in an assault. I think it is time I had a talk with Ser Brynden."

The next morning Tyrion and Bronn and Edmure rode out with a peace banner to the edge of the moat where he had once crossed into the castle. They rode past the old Tully and Baratheon siege lines, now occupied by the Lannister army.

"This is where she set the field on fire," Edmure said with a touch of awe in his voice. Tyrion had hear all about it from his Uncle Kevan the night before, how the fire had swept the field and when the flames cleared almost two hundred men were on fire. That had sapped their morale somewhat and made the men nervous about any assault.

"The red woman is with Stannis now," Tyrion said as they waited by the edge of the moat.

"The lads I spoke to last night say Stannis had wildfire as well," Bronn said. "Might be he left some here."

Tyrion looked to Edmure. "I know not. It is possible," said Lord Tully.

"Hopefully there will be no assault if your uncle will listen to reason."

Edmure grunted. "My uncle has never been one to listen to reason."

"We must make him see that this is all folly."

Soon the drawbridge was lowered and Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, rode out to the other side of the moat on his splendid horse. He was bundled up against the cold but still under the furs Tyrion could see his armor and weapons.

"Ser Brynden," Tyrion said with a nod of the head.

"Imp," the Blackfish answered.

A nice beginning. "It is time we talked."

"Tell Edmure your terms and send him across."

"You already know my terms. Same as my father's. They named a song for what he did. Do you think anyone will sing about the snows that fall on Riverrun?"

That gave the Blackfish pause. "Many will die," he finally said.

"Yes," said Tyrion. "But the result will be the same. And that will leave fewer of us to face the Others."

"Listen to him, Uncle," said Edmure. "It is time for us to forget our squabble and face the common enemy."

"I will not bend the knee," the Blackfish said strongly. "Not to a false king. Not again."

"I don't need you to bend the knee," Tyrion told him. "Just yield the castle and there will be no bloodshed, no need of oaths and all that. I am on my way to negotiate with Stannis. But I cannot leave Riverrun held by an enemy behind me."

"How can I trust you?" the Blackfish shot back. "You broke your father's treaty."

"I needed the gold. Wars are expensive," Tyrion explained. "You will be paid in full when all this madness is over." If we defeat the Others, that is, he wanted to add, but didn't.

"More false promises," the Blackfish answered with scorn.

Tyrion sighed. "If I may, I will venture as to your reasoning for this prolonged siege. Stannis asked you to hold the Lannister army in place while he escaped. Meanwhile Edmure was to find me and bring me Stannis' offer. Time was what Stannis needed and time you gave him. So now there is no point to this siege. I am going to meet Stannis to negotiate a truce."

"Then be gone and be quick about it," was the Blackfish's answer.

"No," said Edmure, to Tyrion's surprise. "Yield the castle, Uncle. I command it."

The Blackfish stood there for a long moment and stared at his nephew. "And if I refuse?"

"They will raze our home to the ground and kill our whole family, Uncle, and all our people. We have done enough for these kings, false or true. It is time we did something for our people."

For a moment Tyrion thought the Blackfish would refuse. Then he gave terms. "My men and I keep our arms and our banners flying. You will be guests in our castle, not lords. You will provide your own food and fodder. And if one girl is raped, or one piece of silver or even a gilded drinking horn goes missing, I will find you Imp, and cut out your heart."

Tyrion grinned. "Acceptable. Shall we say midday?"

The Blackfish grunted. "Agreed. Now send my nephew and lord across as a sign of good faith."

Tyrion agreed and Lord Edmure Tully rode his horse across the drawbridge and Bronn and Tyrion returned to the commander's building.

"It is done," he told them and he gave them the terms.

"The men will not like it," said Ser Kevan.

"Any man who touches a girl or steals anything will be hanged," Tyrion said in strong terms. "Make sure everyone knows this."

At noon the drawbridge came down, the gates were opened and Tyrion and Jaime led the procession into the castle. Most of the army stayed outside and there were no incidents. When Jaime and the Blackfish met in the main courtyard there was a bit of tension.

"I see you still live," Jaime said.

"As do you."

"A mere scratch you gave me."

"As you gave me."

Jaime grinned. "Until next time." He looked about the castle. "I think my bed in the army camp is more comfortable than anything this hovel can offer." He then turned his horse about and rode back out the way he had come.

Tyrion seethed at his brother's arrogance but thankfully the Blackfish said nothing. He looked at Tyrion with contempt in his eyes. "The castle yields, my lord. I trust your men know my terms."

"They do," Tyrion said wanly. Victory should taste sweeter than this. "I am sure you can provide suitable accommodations for me and my senior commanders."

"Yes, we will do our best, small as our 'hovel' may be," the Blackfish said with more than an edge of contempt in his tone. Riverrun was no hovel and despite the Blackfish's scorn soon Tyrion was given a lavish room befitting his rank. After he changed clothing and rested a bit he and Ser Kevan met with Edmure and the Blackfish in Edmure's solar. He did not send word to Jaime about this meeting as he wanted no squabbling.

"First things first," the Blackfish said when they met. "We want our gold."

"Done," said Tyrion. "The payments will continue. They may not reach here in a timely manner but I will send a bird to the Rock to order them to start the shipments once more."

"I will see this letter before you send it," Edmure said and Tyrion agreed.

"Now," Tyrion said. "Where is Stannis and what is he doing?"

"Near the Twins," said the Blackfish. "Encamped on the west side of the Green Fork the last I've heard."

"Has Lord Walder joined forces with him?" Ser Kevan asked next.

"We are not your spies," the Blackfish growled at him.

Tyrion smiled. "Of course not. Just trying to get a picture of the situation before I leave."

Ser Kevan was not so kind. "You two act as if you have won a victory. The castle has yielded, our army outnumbers you, and at a word we will turn this small pile of rocks into burnt rubble and put you all to the sword."

Edmure grew angry. "You promised…"

But the Blackfish interrupted him. "Leave it be, Edmure." He looked at Tyrion and Kevan. "Threats you can make but until you carry them out we will not be treated as defeated. This is still our home and you are our guests."

"Of course," Tyrion said calmly. Yes, he thought, I will agree now but push me and what Ser Kevan said would come to pass.

They discussed a few more minor points, and then they were done. Tyrion decided he could not wait too long and planned to leave tomorrow to find Stannis if the weather was fair. He went to his room and Pod was there with a tray of food for him. Tyrion ate and rested a bit but then there was one more thing he needed to do before he went to see Stannis. "Pod, find Lord Lefford for me. He is in command of the supply train."

Less than an hour later Pod returned with Lord Leo Lefford. He was an average sized man, but looked bigger because of his armor and heavy cloak. He had brown eyes and hair, same as his daughter, but his hair was going grey. His short beard was trimmed close to his face and shaped like a spade. Tyrion did not know his age but he must have counted fifty name days by now. They had met a few times in the past, first when Tyrion demanded weapons and armor for his wild men just before the Battle of the Green Fork. Lefford had been in command of Lord Tywin's supply train. At that time he had given a sour look to Tyrion as if he was a bug under his shoe, but had yielded up the weapons and armor for the wild men.

Now he was more servile, dipping his head when he entered Tyrion's room. "My lord, your squire said you needed words with me."

"Yes, Lord Lefford. Please sit. Some wine?"

"Thank you, my lord," Lefford said and he poured himself a cupful from a flagon and drank some.

"I have a letter from your daughter." He handed it over and Lefford thanked him but made no move to open it. "Read it now," Tyrion told him and with a puzzled look Lefford did so. As he read Tyrion watched him intently and then he saw his face grow tense and his eyes narrow and Tyrion had his answer. There would be no marriage between Lady Alysanne and himself.

"My lord, I…" Lefford began and then he sought for the words but they did not come.

"She asked me to be her husband," Tyrion told him.

"Yes, my lord," Lefford replied stiffly. "So her letter says."

"But you do not wish this?"

"I…I admire you, my lord. You have done well by us since you took your father's seat. But…but…"

"I am an ugly dwarf," Tyrion said for him and his words caused Lefford to wince. "I am also a drunk and I like whores, one of whom was accused of being a spy. Let's see, is there anything else distasteful about me? No, that about sums it up, I should think."

Lefford gulped and then drank his wine and finally spoke. "She is my only daughter. I…"

"Have not yet found a husband for her. Your seat is a vital part of the western domain. It's future must be secured."

"She has refused all suitors."

"So she told me. Why?"

He sighed. "When she was fifteen she fell in love with her older cousin, Ser Marcus Lefford, who stayed with us for a year before he earned his spurs as a knight. But as soon as he was knighted your father ordered him to move to the court as a member of Queen Cersei's guard. That was five years past. Soon after he married a woman from King's Landing. Alysanne was devastated. She has refused all who asked for her hand since. Now Ser Marcus is dead."

Ser Marcus Lefford. Dead from an arrow wound to his shoulder at a holdfast where Ned Stark and his daughter Arya and a king's bastard were hiding. "I saw Ser Marcus die."

"I have heard this, my lord, from the men who brought his bones home."

"Alysanne did not mention him."

"She still grieves for him."

"Yet she asked me to marry her."

"Yes…this is most…unusual."

"She said she has counted twenty-one name days."

"She has, my lord."

"The older she gets the less chance there is of finding a suitable husband."

"Mayhaps."

"We must find her a husband, to shore up your family's hold on the Golden Tooth. If you die and she is unwed, it will present a problem. Your brother's branch of the family will inherit the Tooth if your daughter bears no heirs."

Lefford looked at him intently. "Do you wish to marry her, my lord?"

Here it was, the question he had pondered these days past as he rode from the Golden Tooth to Riverrun. It would be the wisest course of action. He loved Shae but could never marry her and never be with her unless he forsook Tommen's commands and broke many of the laws he was supposed to uphold. But another thought had entered his mind as they had stopped one night on the Riverroad. In his tent he and Bronn and Edmure had gotten drunk. Bronn had teased them both for being unmarried and Tyrion had drunkenly told Edmure of Lady Alysanne's offer. Edmure joked that he would take the lady's hand if Tyrion refused her. When Tyrion asked him the next morning if he was serious Edmure said he was.

"There is another possible suitor," Tyrion finally said and the relief on Lord Lefford's face was hard to hide.

"Who, my lord?"

"Edmure Tully."

Now Lefford bristled. "He is our enemy."

"Not anymore. And this marriage would unite our lands and the Riverlands. Too long the border between our lands has been a theater of war."

Lefford thought on this and then shook his head. "He has no wealth, less so now. He begs for our gold, my lord."

"Gold my father promised him. He is a lord paramount, one of the highest titles in the land."

"He is a traitor who threw his lot in with first the Starks and then Stannis."

Tyrion was tired of him. "If you cannot find a suitor for her by the time I return from talking to Stannis, she will marry one of us. That is a yes to your earlier question. I will wed her, bed her, and put a child or two in her and may our houses grow stronger because of it. So who's it to be, the wealthy twisted dwarf of Casterly Rock or the strong, tall, but poor, Lord of the Riverlands?"

"I am her father! You have no right to talk to me that way!" Lefford said in anger as he stood and glared down at Tyrion.

"Yes, I do," Tyrion answered with heat in his tone. "I am your lord if you have not forgotten. But you are correct in one thing. You are her father, and as such you have the final say in the choice of her husband. Do so quickly. Now get out of my sight before I make your daughter an orphan."

Lefford's face was red, but he wisely said nothing and left Tyrion's rooms. A very surprised Pod had been standing outside the door the whole time. Tyrion guessed he had heard everything. "Pod…your ears only."

"Yes, my lord."

"Good lad."

That night Tyrion dreamed of the lovely Lady Alysanne again and woke up sweating and with his loins on fire. He wished Riverrun had a whorehouse nearby where he could sate his lust but the honorable Hoster Tully tolerated no such establishments near his castle. He got out of bed and soaked his head in a cold basin of water and gulped some wine to calm his racing heart.

"Gods," he said to himself. "What is wrong with me?"

That morning he had breakfast with Bronn and Ser Kevan in the great hall of Riverrun, where once the lords of the Riverlands and the North had bent the knee to him to swear homage to a now dead king. As they ate Lord Lefford came in and stood by Tyrion's seat.

"A word, my lord," he asked.

"Say what you will," Tyrion said. "I must eat quickly as I am in a rush to be off to meet Stannis while the weather holds good."

Lefford turned a bit red and then just said what he had to say. "My daughter's hand is yours if you wish, my lord," he said in a quiet voice.

Ah, there it is, my future…if I survive this next encounter, Tyrion thought. He stood and stuck out his hand to a very surprised Lefford, who shook it. "I gladly accept, Lord Lefford. You may write your daughter with this news and tell her to begin the wedding plans. I shall wed her when I return from my ventures."

Lefford smiled wanly. "As you wish, my lord." And then he walked away, his body slumped and his head bowed.

"Cheerful fellow," Bronn said.

"Yes," Tyrion replied. "You'd think he'd sold his daughter into servitude."

"I suppose congratulations are in order," Jaime said later when Tyrion met him at the main army camp and gave him this news. They were in the long, low building, going over the plans for the future. "Thank the gods I won't have her mooning over me the next time I visit there."

"She's a fine lass," said Bronn. "That only leaves you Pod."

"What?" Pod sputtered from where he stood nearby. "Me? Married?"

"Not till you become knighted," Tyrion said. "Speaking of which, Jaime will do the honors once we return to the Rock."

"Of course," Jaime said. "Pod, you will have to list all your deeds of valor and have witnesses to such."

"Yes, my lord," the young squire said with a grin.

"I think helping me take Harrenhal should be enough," Bronn said. Tyrion would have liked to do nothing more than sit all day and drink and talk on their adventures but soon it would be time to go.

"Bronn, Pod, go ready our horses. I need words with Jaime and my Uncle."

After they were gone Ser Kevan bent over a map and pointed. "Lancel and the cavalry are here, between Seagard and the Twins, closer to the Twins. Once we sent word to Stannis that you were coming a truce ensued. Both sides are in camps in this wooded area here, with a small valley between them. The camps are about a mile apart. We will give you an escort of two hundred men but I am sure Stannis will not allow them to enter his camp."

"That's why I will be there," said Jaime.

"No, you won't," Tyrion said to his older brother. "You are not coming with me."

Jaime laughed and then he saw that Tyrion was serious. "I am coming."

"No. If it is a trap, we cannot afford to give Stannis two Lannister hostages. He might just take it on himself to kill one of us to prove he is willing to do so."

"Tyrion is right, Jaime," said Ser Kevan.

"You cannot face him alone!" Jaime said to Tyrion with some anger.

"I won't. Bronn will be there. He is nobody so they won't kill him."

Jaime took a deep breath. "Then I will be with Lancel's men nearby in case things go awry."

"If things go awry I will need the whole army nearby. That is why you and Uncle Kevan will begin to break camp and begin to move north exactly this time tomorrow."

Ser Kevan nodded. "Yes, that is best. We have been sitting here for almost two months now. It is time to move. What are we to do once we get up near Seagard?"

"Nothing for now," Tyrion said. " But we must plan for all possibilities. Leave enough men here to make sure Lord Tully and the Blackfish don't turn their cloaks once more. Mace Tyrell should already have a force at Harrenhal to root out Stannis' rats he left there. Once I speak to Stannis I will know what the future brings."

"What are you going to say to him?" Jaime asked.

"I know not yet," Tyrion said. "He wants a truce, so we can face the danger in the North. Rest assured any deals I make with him will not include having him on the Iron Throne. Whatever happens, I want the army close by."

Tyrion, Bronn, and Pod mounted up soon after and were joined by twenty knights and two hundred cavalry. Before they left Edmure Tully came out on horseback to have some final words. The weather was fine, the sky a bit cloudy and it was cold but no snow was falling. Edmure looked much refreshed and wore fine clothing with a silver fish clasp at his cloak collar.

"I hear you are to be wed," Edmure said to Tyrion as way of a greeting.

"Yes…I told Lefford you would make as a good a match for his daughter."

"So he said to me last night when he offered her hand."

"He did?" Of course he did. What father wouldn't want the handsome Lord of the Riverlands for his only daughter rather than the twisted dwarf of the Rock?

"Yes…though I was inclined to accept I had to refuse," Edmure told him. "My uncle reminded me that Walder Frey has many daughters and granddaughters. So does Lord Bracken and some others loyal to me. If I married Lady Alysanne I would insult my own loyal bannermen. So…the Lady of the Golden Tooth is all yours."

"I hope to see you at my wedding."

Edmure laughed. "Are we to become friends now?"

"With the Others walking the world again, we may all have to become friends."

Edmure's face clouded over. "Send word if you make a pact with Stannis. We will send what men we can to join you."

"I will," Tyrion told him. "It is time to end our bloodshed."

"It is all I hope for," Edmure replied and then they said goodbye.

Jaime rode with them part of the way and then finally he had to return to prepare the army to break camp. "How is your arm?" Tyrion asked him before he left.

"Getting stronger," Jaime said. He pointed to the forest ahead. "You keep going on this trail. It leads through the forest there, and then along tracks that pass by the head waters of the Blue Fork and then Seagard. We will be right behind you."

"Not too close," Tyrion said. "I don't want Stannis suspecting any foul intentions."

Jaime's face turned grim. "He won't but don't forget to carry the peace banner and ask for guest right. Even Stannis is not fool enough to harm you once you eat his bread and drink his wine."

"Let us hope not."

"Good luck, dear brother."

Tyrion smiled and said goodbye and soon he and his men were alone. The weather remained good for the first two days and they made good time, but after that a snowstorm howled for a whole day and they had to stay bundled up in their tents. The next day it took hours to dig out their supply wagons and clear a path through the snow drifts.

"At this rate it will take a month to reach the Twins," Bronn complained.

It took twelve days, not a month, and only because the weather stayed mostly fair after that first storm. They had sheltered at Oldstones one night and found some refuge in some villages near Seagard. Tyrion dare not go near the walled town for he knew not where its Mallister masters loyalties lay. They had supported the Starks and more than likely supported Stannis now as well.

Finally on the twelfth day in mid-morning they came over a rise and one of the lead scouts came riding back at a hard pace. "My lord, our men are camped ahead of us."

An hour later and Tyrion was alone with Lancel in his tent. His cousin looked thinner and his beard had grown some but it was the look of his eyes that made Tyrion wary. He had religious fever, no doubt and this was proven by the first words out of his mouth.

"May the Seven guide your hand in all your endeavors," Lancel said by way of greeting when Tyrion entered his tent.

Tyrion ignored the pious greeting. "I expected you to meet me outside. I am your lord, after all."

"I have no lord but the Seven," Lancel answered.

In that case, it was time to get to the point. "Indeed. And who told you to listen to my foolish sister and bring Shae into the Rock's dungeons? The Father? The Crone? No, it couldn't have been the Crone, for she is wise and that was the most foolish thing you have ever done."

He didn't even try to deny it. "Your whore was a spy."

Tyrion slapped him, reaching up as far as he could to do so, and Lancel took the blow and said nothing. "If you were not my cousin I would have your head."

"I am ready to die."

"Not today, cuz. But rest assured you will be the first in line to face the Others."

"We will not shirk from our duties to the Seven."

Tyrion was sick of him and left the tent, cursing his own stupidity for raising the religious orders again. Hopefully they would all die in the coming battles and he would be well rid of them. Outside he found Bronn gazing off to the north across a snowy valley.

"The enemy is there," he said to Tyrion.

"Not our enemy for long I hope," Tyrion said. He gave orders for the rest of his men to stay there while he and Bronn and Pod mounted up and rode out of the camp, Pod in front carrying the seven-ribbon peace banner.

The sky was clear and the weather was still cold but the reception they received from Stannis' army encampment was a bit warmer. At a wooden barrier and deep snow-filled ditch were many men-at-arms and archers plus a man on horseback with the fiery red heart sigil on his surcoat. He was a large man with a florid face and locks of blond hair stuck out from under his fur hat.

"Lord Tyrion, I am Ser Justin Massey," the man said. "King Stannis' awaits you in his main pavilion."

"His main pavilion?" Tyrion said in some surprise. "And here I thought to meet him in Walder Frey's solar or somewhere warm at least."

He watched Ser Justin's face as he said this and saw the uncertainty and knew something was amiss.

"If you would follow me, my lord," Ser Justin said. Pod rode ahead with the peace banner on a pole and Bronn rode close to Tyrion's side.

"Now were in for it," Bronn said with his dark eyes darting about looking for danger.

"I am an envoy and we carry a peace banner."

"Many a dead man said that with his final breath I am sure," Bronn countered.

"You could have stayed in Casterly Rock."

"No, I couldn't have. If you get the chop, how long before your sister gives it to me as well?"

"Not long."

"There. So we are in this together. To the end."

Tyrion grinned and felt warm inside. Yes, to the end…even if it is but a few moments from now.

As they rode Tyrion observed the camp. Canvas tents and log huts were everywhere and when the men heard he was coming they had come out to see the Imp of Casterly Rock. They looked cold and tired, and more than one man was coughing with illness. But they still bore arms and wore armor and everywhere they had cook fires with kettles hanging over them. Strung from trees were the carcasses of dead pigs and deer. They passed a large pen with many chickens and another with some pigs and even a few cows. The one thing Tyrion did notice was the lack of war horses, though there were many draft horses and donkeys nearby lines of wagons and sleighs.

Before long they neared the western bank of the Green Fork. To Tyrion's surprise even from this distance he could see it was not frozen, gurgling merrily along to the south where it would eventually join the broader Trident. They then rode past a small stand of forest where many men were chopping wood. Soon before them was a large pavilion, the largest of them all, and on top of it was Stannis' fiery heart banner and no others.

Many smaller tents were nearby, as were many men-at-arms and archers. But the most surprising thing were the siege engines. Ten of them were lined up and were facing the western castle of the Twins. Tyrion looked up at the castle about one hundred yards away and saw many men on the battlements. The Twin's banner still flew from up there, but all was quiet. No one was fighting but they seemed ready for a fight. Something was amiss.

They dismounted in front of the pavilion. Pod held their horses while Bronn and Tyrion got their bearings. Ser Justin was soon in front of them. "Follow me, my lords."

The flap of the pavilion was opened and Ser Justin stepped inside with Tyrion and Bronn behind him.

It took a moment for Tyrion's eyes to adjust to the darker interior. It was warm in here and he soon saw why. Four braziers filled with glowing coals were in each corner of the small section of the pavilion they were in. In front of Tyrion was a large table with many candles on it and many maps and scrolls of parchment.

And there was the enemy. Stannis stood behind the table, in his armor but bare headed. Tyrion had forgotten how tall he was. Though he was never as large or as strong as Robert, Stannis Baratheon was still an imposing man. And he was sterner than his brother, and tolerated no fools. Tyrion knew he must choose his words carefully, but also not show any sign of weakness.

Beside Stannis was a woman, all dressed in red, who was stunningly beautiful in a strange sort of way and Tyrion knew at once this was who had killed his father. Four large guards also stood nearby, as did a few men who had to be lords loyal to Stannis, though Tyrion did not know their names and none bore any sigil but Stannis' fiery heart.

"Your Grace, I present Lord Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock and Lord…" Ser Justin began but then faltered because he knew not Bronn's name.

"Bronn," Tyrion said. "Lord Bronn Towers. He's a new lord, with a small seat, but one of my most trusted companions."

"He is a sellsword," said a nearby lord with a sneer. "We have heard of him and his foul deeds."

"Foul deeds?" said Stannis with a raised eyebrow. "I have heard he captured Harrenhal almost single handed."

"Quite true," Tyrion said. "I made him a lord for this deed."

"Would that some of my lords were so deserving of their titles," said Stannis and there was a stone cold silence after this. Then Stannis spoke. "It has been a long time, Lord Tyrion."

"Two years I believe…Lord Stannis."

"King Stannis," Ser Justin said sharply from behind Tyrion. "Or 'Your Grace' will do."

Stannis glared at the man behind Tyrion. "We have no time to quibble over titles." He looked back to Tyrion. "Two years ago Robert still lived and things were…not as they are."

"No, indeed not. Were that he still lived and we had peace."

"Quite," said Stannis. "Before we begin to discuss such a peace between us, may I present the Lady Melisandre of Asshai."

She nodded to Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion. I have heard much of you and am glad to make your acquaintance."

Tyrion fixed her with a stare. "Forgive me if I do not return the sentiment, my lady. I believe you killed my father."

Melisandre stared at him and Tyrion continued to stare back, unflinching. "Your father is dead," she said. "Yet we still live."

That was neither a confession nor a denial. But Tyrion got the point. He turned to Stannis. "I seem to recall my father saying to me once to ask for guest right before beginning any negotiations with your enemies."

"Wise words," Stannis said. He nodded to someone behind Tyrion and the tent flap was opened and a serving girl came in with a tray of bread and a flagon of wine and two cups.

"Place it on the table, Sheila," Stannis said and the thin brown-haired girl did so. She poured the wine and broke some bread and offered both to Tyrion and Bronn. Her hands shivered and Tyrion could see she wore thin garments and was very cold.

"Thank you, my dear," Tyrion said kindly to her and she stared at him, and he wondered if she had never seen a dwarf before. He took the cup and bread and soon she was gone. Tyrion drank and ate a little as did Bronn and then he placed his cup on the table and spoke to Stannis. "So, that is taken care of. I suppose we must get on with the tedious business at hand."

"Leave us," Stannis said to the others in the tent and all left except the guards and the red woman. She and Stannis sat behind the table and Tyrion and Bronn sat in chairs near the tent flap. He did not like having the guards behind him and neither did Bronn but at least they had not taken Bronn's weapons away nor Tyrion's small dagger he kept in a sheath at his waist.

"I expected to see you in Lord Walder's castle," Tyrion said first. "Or at least him to be here."

"Lord Walder Frey is dead," Stannis said and that was the first shock of the day.

"Dead?" Tyrion could not help but repeat as Bronn muttered "bloody hell" under his breath. "How? When?"

"Last night," Stannis told them. "They were tolling the bells all morning but thankfully they stopped at midday. He had been ill for a week, we know not of what. I saw him when we first arrived and he looked healthy then, as healthy as possible for a man his age. I have not seen him since. He made accusations against me and refused to help us or let us cross his bridge."

"What accusations?"

Stannis grunted. "You know what. That I sent an assassin to kill his son in Casterly Rock."

Tyrion had almost forgotten that terrible episode. Now the image of the pale dead body of Ser Emmon Frey came rushing back. "Oh, that."

"Indeed. I sent no assassins. Why did Lord Walder think so?"

Tyrion felt he needed the truth or there would be no basis for negotiating. "A rumor I had spread. We had an assassin that cause some mayhem…I blamed you. It is war, you know."

Stannis bristled. "I know only too well. Who was this assassin? Who really sent him?"

"He was a Faceless Man from Braavos. Courtesy of the Iron Bank, sent when we humiliated their banker. Though now I think the banker and the assassin were the same man."

"Tycho Braye?" the red woman said.

"Aye," said Bronn. "He's a right bloody bugger."

"Yes," Tyrion added. "So…he was in King's Landing?"

"He was," said Stannis. "How do you know this?"

"He told us when he asked us to pay half of Robert and Joffrey's debts. We agreed but he did not like our method of payment and we suffered many deaths because of that."

"Now the Frey's think I had Ser Emmon Frey killed," Stannis said as he ground his teeth. "You will clear this matter up before any negotiations can begin."

"Of course. Who is Lord Walder's heir?"

"Stevron Frey," Stannis said, seemingly satisfied that this point was agreed to. "Not as stubborn a man as his father. I will send a message that you have arrived and seek an audience with him. Once that is done we can begin serious negotiations."

Tyrion drank his wine and Bronn did the same. "My companions and I need some place to rest and perhaps some food."

"Ser Justin will take care of your every needs," Stannis said as he stood. He stared at Tyrion. "Be careful of your glib tongue around the Freys. Make sure they know I had nothing to do with Ser Emmon's death."

"Oh, for certain," Tyrion said.

The red woman eyed him as he was about to leave "You presume much, Lord Tyrion. You act as if you are equals with King Stannis. You give him no respect, do not give him the titles he deserves, and bring your sellsword turned lord to a meeting with royalty. You spread rumors about your King and accuse him of false actions. This is not a good beginning."

Tyrion sighed. "My lady, you presume much also. I know you killed my father and Renly as well, but I am willing to put that aside for now in the interests of peace. We are at war, these are negotiations, and I am the Hand of another king, who is a bit too young to come here and negotiate in person." He now turned to Stannis. "You invited me here. I was under the impression that we all had another enemy, one that will kill us all if we do not unite. If you do not wish to continue these talks, I will leave at once."

Stannis ground his teeth and the vein in his forehead seemed to throb but he clamped down on his anger and spoke curtly. "Your tent awaits you, Lord Tyrion."

Tyrion dipped his head. "Many thanks, my lord. Come Bronn."

A short time later they were in a small tent with Pod, munching on some stale bread, a weak venison soup, and thin ale. Bronn sopped up his soup with the bread. "If this is what they are feeding honored guests I can only guess what the men are eating."

"Perhaps Jaime is right," Tyrion said. "We can starve them out. With the Frey's refusing them the bridge and the river unfrozen, Stannis is trapped here."

"You're forgetting one thing," Bronn said. "The Others."

"Yes, how silly of me," Tyrion said. He was about to speak again when the tent flap opened and a man dressed in simple clothing entered. He seemed a servant, but he had no food or drink in hand. Bronn had his fighting knife out in a heartbeat and Pod grabbed his sword as well.

The man spoke quickly. "Lord Tyrion, I need have words with you."

What madness was this now? The man appeared harmless and carried no arms. He had long sandy blonde hair, and a plain clean shaven face and was no taller than Bronn.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Bronn asked sharply as he held the knife to the man's chest and Pod stood to his other side with his sword in hand.

The man looked at Tyrion and said two words. "Arya Stark."

Gods, it was him. Tyrion gulped. "What of her?"

"This man drew a picture of her for you once ."

Now he was sure. "Pod, stepped outside and make sure we are not disturbed."

"My lord, but…"

"Out. Now."

"Yes, my lord."

Once Pod was outside Bronn looked at Tyrion. "Is it…him? The one who poisoned me?"

"This man did not poison you," Jaqen H'ghar said. "It was merely a sleeping powder I blew into the room from the open window. A specialty in Myr that burglars use to make sure all are asleep before they enter a house."

Bronn glared at him. "How's about I put you to sleep forever?"

"Bronn, lower your knife," Tyrion said. "This man is no enemy of ours."

Bronn lowered his knife but did not sit again and kept his eyes on the Faceless Man from Braavos.

"Congratulations," Tyrion said to Jaqen H'ghar. "You did well in King's Landing."

"Thank you, my lord. This man would have completed the job here but when word came that a truce was agreed to and you were coming I decided to wait to see if you wished to complete our contract."

Ah, yes. The red woman. "I am uncertain. I am in the midst of negotiations. If she was to die now, Stannis may take our heads in revenge."

"Just so," said Jaqen. "And if negotiations break down?"

"Oh, in that case by all means fulfill our contract. Just make sure we are far away before you do so."

"It shall be as you wish," Jaqen H'ghar said and then he was out the tent without another word.

Bronn seethed. "I want to kill him."

"Oh, no Bronn, I think not. Besides, I am afraid you underestimate our friend."

"I can take him."

"In a fair fight, perhaps. But men like him do not fight fair."

"Aye," Bronn said and he spat. "So…what now?"

"Now we go see the new Lord of the Twins and sound him out as to his plans."

A short time later they were in the great hall of the Twins and Stevron Frey sat in the high seat where his father had sat for many decades. The hall was filled with Freys, men, women, and children, many of them weeping still for their dead father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. Stevron looked uncomfortable in that chair, Tyrion thought. He was a grey-haired, grey-bearded, weasel-faced, heavy set man in his mid-sixties who had lived in his father's shadow all his life. He looked a bit shocked that he was finally in the chair he had coveted for so long. Now he had to deal with his father's death, a king and his army camped on his doorstep, and possible danger coming from the North. Tyrion did not envy him one bit.

"I am sorry for your loss, Lord Frey," Tyrion said with a dip of his head. Though the Twins had supported Robb Stark, there was surprisingly little animosity between the Freys and Lannisters.

"Aye, as I am," said Stevron wearily. His eyes were red and heavy from lack of sleep. "The funeral rites will be held the day after next. I trust you will come."

"Of course," said Tyrion. "First, I must explain about Emmon's death."

Stevron held up a hand. "A moment, my lord. We will get to the business of my dead brother, I assure you. But first there is news from the North you must hear and bring to King Stannis. News from Winterfell. We've had a bird."

"What news?"

"Winterfell is under siege. They are surrounded by the Others and their wights."

"Gods," said Tyrion. "Did Lord Stark make it back to his castle?"

"He did, and still lives as of four days ago when the bird was sent," Stevron replied. "But there is even more dire news."

"What could be more dire than that?"

"A rider came in this morning, from Moat Cailin. All three towers have fallen to the Others. Even as we speak, they are coming down the Neck. Soon they will be here."


End file.
